Sunday, November 25, 2012

collar

On the bench in the dim light were his tools. He had laid out what he may use this first time they met. She stood looking at the bench where her eyes were greeted with bright and shiny metal and there was some leather too. Chains and paraphernalia lay silent in a small plastic Tupperware container. Though she has never experience these things she recognised most of the objects from the stories she had read and the pictures she had viewed on her journey to this room.

She felt herself throb as she took in the clover clamps, the sharp gleam from the Wartenburg pinwheel and from the corner of her eye she saw the collar. Two inches width of black shiny leather. She took in a sharp breath as she tried to look at it. The red thread stitching on the cuffs with it matched perfectly. In the centre of its length the collar held silver metal O ring anchored to the leather by a another thicker and quite beautifully crafted ring fixed to a round metal plate which in turn was embedded in the body of the collar.

The absence of a curve in the leather told her that the bindings had never been worn. Many weeks earlier during one of their many conversations He told her that He had acquired a set of cuffs with a collar just for her. "They are yours." He said. She had let the comment slip out of the conversation feeling both a sense of nervousness and excitement.

She didn't allow herself to look at the collar for more than a second or two. During her next few visits to the room the collar lay on the bench. It was quietly insistent on her attention. She had accepted the cuffs with ease but the collar was something different, even if it was only in play. Her next visit to the room she admired the collar from a distance. She began to wonder about the feel of it on her tender neck; what would it look like as she watched her own submission play out under His hand.

The next time she came to the room she touched the black leather and shiny cool metal as it lay on the bench. Her finger tips skimmed across its smooth surface. She began to long to feel it on her skin. Still He didn't beckon her to bring it to Him. Her breath grew short as she imagined herself with this small piece of leather circling her neck, His finger looped through the ring to guide her and push and pull her where He desired.

She felt the insatiable need in her as she travelled to the room. He would be waiting having had prepared the room to his liking. She knew the collar would be on the bench, like a beacon for her. The collar had a life of its own as it lay in silence waiting for her to come to it. She walked into the room on that final day. She undressed as He bade her, as He always did. Then without invitation she walked to the bench and with no hesitation she picked up the collar, turned and with an outstretched arm handed it in silence to Sir. She gathered up her hair and bowed her head as he placed the collar around her neck fastening the buckle at her nape. He hooked His finger under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Good girl."



photographer unknown. Sourced from the Internet

Friday, November 23, 2012

the littlest things

It's funny how the littlest things can bring a sense of reverie. The warmth of dreamy notions as I move through the most unusual of places.

I was in the supermarket aisle yesterday rushing from errand to errand in my life. Next on the list? Rice. Basmati. Jasmine is nice but there's nothing like the aroma and texture of Basmati. There it was, just down on the lower shelf. I bent at the hips and then remembering my state of knickerless-ness and a shorter skirt, a little rule left me by a distant Local D,  and I quickly bent my knees to retrieve the small prize of white kernels.

I gazed at the packet as my thoughts drifted, hurtled really, back to a man who had found me searching for a Dominant character. Just over a couple of years back I hardly knew who I was or what this thing was in me that tapped at my brain, pushing me forward into the unknown. He found me and claimed me. It was a slow process, it always is. We never met, as is the way with D/s in a lot of cases these days, we were content for that time with an online connection. I was far too timid to even step in a direction that would see us come into the offline world. He lived in another state. We were at least in the same country and he travelled a great deal. Up until then I had kept most potential Dom's at a distance, safely with an ocean in between us. I lived in the knowledge that we would meet one day, though the very idea of that terrified me. I was able to explore this thing in me and have almost unlimited contact.

I loved how he exerted his control. He was a methodical man and controlled my dress, everyday. I sent him a list of all my known activities for the week or two if he was to be travelling overseas. I had previously delivered to him a not insubstantial list of all my lingerie.  In return he somehow provided me weekly a list of garments I was required to wear (or not) for my activities. This frankly, impressed me. He rarely missed a beat. The list was always delivered to me in time to know what to do. I never had to make a decision, though there was an established rule around that should the occasion arise. He did not care for black and over time he trained me not to care for black very much either. To this day I rarely wear black though it still fills my draw with it's lace and filminess in case...one day...

In the supermarket aisle I gazed at the company name, his company name, on the packet of rice as my thoughts drifted back to my first Daddy. My first real taste of another's control. As I held the packet of rice made by his company in my hand, this simple food, a staple of so many people, I remembered with some fondness my first time. Now that same packet of rice sits in my pantry, a memory of Daddy gone but certainly not forgotten. That small packet connected me in that moment to Daddy-gone. There was a small sense of loss too in that packet. A little sense of regret. If only he had come into my world at a later time, when I was more brave. But then he is one of the reasons I have become braver. He was who I needed at that time. Now there is one (or two ;)) who I need at this time. One or two who guide me further on the journey and in their own way encourage me to be braver still.

Source Internet: photographer unknown


Monday, November 19, 2012

failed submissive girl (again)

Writing to Daddy, I reflected that secrets are the ultimate submission. The revealing of secrets that is.

I have many secrets, we all do I would argue. In submission the holding of secrets is a theme that doesn't seem easily tolerated. I keep many secrets from Local D. I have fewer secrets from Daddy.  I can honestly say I don't think I hold any secrets from Daddy. Would I give him the passwords to bank accounts?  No, so there are some secrets there but the secrets related just to me, about me, I tell him. Daddy has been patient, gaining my trust over time.

Local D? Secrets upon secrets. Nothing that threatens his well-being or safety, but secrets about me. Revealing everything causes me real and fundemental anxiety. I'm partnered to another and Local D, so called because he lives nearby, has the power to bring down the house of cards; family, career, life, should things go horribly wrong between us and he chose to exercise that power. That fear is at the heart of my secrets.

Until I am able to reveal everything to him in trust without fear or question, I am never going to be able to let go and truly submit to him. Until that moment, it is all only play, inauthentic, fun, genuine for what it is, but inauthentic.



Source Intranet: photographer unknown

Sunday, November 18, 2012

am I in trouble Daddy?

I was set a task which I undertook with some to-ing and fro-ing and with some lack of promptness in Daddy's eye's. The trail of email between us ended in a paragraph I sent in an attempt to explain the friction I felt inside. I received his response (in red next to my words). I laughed out loud when I saw the simplicity with which he was able to expose my constant consternation and reframe it as silliness. So with permission:
 
Now am I in trouble over not cumming before the pics? Butt of course
But yes I did do it for your pleasure..because you wanted it..that still confounds and confuses me. How I do that..need to do it..need to do what you ask. Need to do what you are told by ME. I have always been a rule follower Daddy..always. You were told what to do but it got lost in your sea of worry---not allowed---you were told to focus on my pleasure. Is this an extension of that..even when my 40 something year old brain is screaming..age has nothing to do with the need to submit and obey. Noooo this is not sensible, this is not 'nice'..of course it is nice to please Daddy--no matter what he demands---- Does that make sense? Cos I can't figure it out! Clarified now young lady? DO WHAT I TELL YOU AND PROMPTLY (NO MATTER HOW MANY CHICKENS ARE AROUND).

The chickens? A constant distraction. Missed appointments because they fly the coup and I need to run through the neighbourhood back yards trying to find them. Missed tasks because one of the girls is broody and I need to find a cure in the form of a fertilised egg from a nearby farm. Daddy's reference to the chooks as distraction made me laugh out loud.


Source via  the Internet: photographer http://lexoweb.com/ 

 

Saturday, November 17, 2012

reclaiming His

He opened the door to the small beach shack he had secured for their weekend and she walked  over the threshold.

She gently placed her bag on the bench and reaching down to the hem of her dress pulled it slowly over her bare rounded cheeks and over the nakedness of her exposed breasts as she lifted it over her head. The light filmy material fell from her fingertips to the floor.

She turned to face him, the reflection of the strong sunshine bouncing off the water outside the door warmed her and relaxed her like she hadn't felt in a very long time.

He had enjoyed the unwrapping of his girl. She stood quiet and calm in her demeanor, meeting his gaze with her clear hazel eyes. He had always loved these large almond shaped pools though never so much as when they looked up at him from his groin, her mouth filled with cock.

He moved to the chair by the window taking in the view of the beach and the water. He had chosen a secluded beach and shack. Nobody to bother them for the whole weekend. He had needed to reconnect with his girl and she him. She needed to be stripped bare, exposed and centred in a way that only he could accomplish in this secluded far away setting.

'Kneel.'

She came to him, her ample breasts bouncing slightly with each gentle step. She knelt at his feet looking at him for his next instruction. He picked up  book and began to read. She remained where she was, content. When he had finished his reading he sat her with her back to him, her legs wide and knees bent. He leaned over her exploring her body, rolling her hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. His hand slid to her slick pink flesh, his hot breath in her ear, his lips skimming her cheek. Her eyes closed as a sigh escaped her mouth.

He worked her little sensitive button, the palm of his hand pressing her mound. Her pelvis dancing to the pleasure he allowed her. Rocking forward and up into his hand, desperation growing to engulf his finger in the wet heat. He worked her, his teeth sinking into her cheek just to let her know she was still his, no matter how far she drifted.

The heat built in her. The pressure on her button building the pressure in her pelvis. His fingers sliding in side her to relieve her internal ache. He made her remain there through that sensitive part where she felt she could take no more of her clit being pulled and remodelled and she whimpered for relief.

Like some macabre hommage to a film crew art, the sound of the sea crashing to the sand floated on the breeze though the open window as she came to his touch, to his bite, to the pull and pinch on her hard nipple.

Wet, slick, sweat.

She turned to balance on her knees as he stood, his zipper opening to release his hard, hot and she thought, enormous cock. Anticipation made her mouth water as he began to slap her cheek with her reward.

He would make her beg today. He relished the need in her eyes, the desperation in her lips. He knew too well the ache that her need created in her slut pussy.

Source: the Intranet, photographer unknown.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

hot drip

He pushed her firmly back to sit in the chair. The cold metal pressed into her heated flesh.
A simple chair, heavy and anchored to the ground by its weight.

Her legs were open wide, she dare not close them, his instruction was clear. The wrist cuffs were clipped either side to the metal frame and her ankles were fastened in the same way to the front legs of the chair. Her collar and cuffs reminded her all the while of the reason she was there. At His pleasure.

He had refrained from tying the ropes around her thighs and fastening them to the chair. She had promised to keep her knees wide where he could admire the glistening of her cunt.

"Close your eyes now honey."

She always complied, or tried to do what he bade her. Her mind was racing as she heard him move around the room. This was new and he was preparing something at the table where he kept all the toys he used when she came to the room.

She didn't dare look. His hand covered her mouth and pushed her head back so far she thought her neck might snap. Then in an instant the heat and burn seared her nipple. She heard the muffled exclamation of surprise and realised it came from her own lungs. Her eyes remained shut. Panic didn't even have time to take hold before the sensation subsided. The heat came again quickly. Her skin was on fire. She began to writhe. The burn dripped on her nipples and little splashes sprang to her belly and thighs.

His hand moved to cover her nose and mouth. Her cunt tightened and throbbed. Then as she began to settle into the sting and burn of her flesh, her clit screamed in pain as the burn found its tender mark. She was growing dizzy without oxygen. Writhing, squirming, her thoughts slipped away and all she knew was the burn.

He released his hand and she drank in two gulps of sweet air before he pushed into her face again bending her back over the chair. Her collar digging into the nape of her neck was to leave her marked that day.

Her wet pink flesh burned. She thought nothing and felt everything. The burn overwhelming her as the waves of joy moved through her tremouring body. She was his, giving him her pain and fear in the moment she came. He considered her muffled scream and wax drenched body was one of her most beautiful moments.
  
photographer unknown

Friday, November 2, 2012

submission 11

11) Do you include service as a part of your expectations of your submission? How do you define service? What does it mean to you? If not, what is it about the concept of service that is not for you?

This is a tricky one for me. What is service? Is it not doing what is asked, demanded, expected that is at the core of what I want and underpins my need to please. If service is defined in this way (and *not* solely with mop and bucket in hand), then yes service is my expectation for my submission. To please him gives me pleasure, a kick, gets me wet...him playing with me makes me excited. Yin and Yang. Consider then, do I service him or does he service me? I read once the argument that a Dom by his very nature is in service to his sub.  Controlling his sub gives him and her much needed and mutual pleasure. Can it not be argued then that a Dom/me and their subbie are in service to each other?

A Dom/me needs a sub to submit in order to express their lead, and a subbie needs their Dom/me in order to submit. One cannot exist without the other. There is a symbiotic reationship between Dom and sub, Master and slave, Top and bottom, Yin and Yang. Other than this, I don't really understand 'Service'.

photographer unknown: Source the Interweb


Pinch & Punch

Found it ..Andrew Tarusov calendar apocalypse 2012!

for your viewing pleasure and happy November.

Andrew Tarusov

Thursday, November 1, 2012

October running late


Well this is supposed to be November's calendar girl but I can't find her..I will contiue to look. For now please enjoy Octobers treat, forgotten..oops 'my bad'
 
Andrew Tarusov - Apocalypse 2012 
 
 

Saturday, October 27, 2012

spanked on sunday afternoon

He folded her legs back over her shoulders. He raised his arm and with the flogger travelling behind the forward motion of the stroke she waited only a second for the connection of leather on her already reddened cheeks, on her thighs. The lengths of hard leather connected with her soft pink skin. The slickness growing with each stroke.

She laughed with delight at the sting on her skin.

She felt the relief wash over her.

Her Non-Dom hub had not raised his hand to her in months. Now in the warm afternoon sun of their bedroom he made her hot, wanton and lust filled before he fucked her.

Naked
bedded
Her husbands hand guiding the the leather
thighs,
buttocks,
cunt

harder
stinging
laughing at the deliciousness of the sting.

She could breathe again. Her body propelled forward, her breast bouncing, swaying. Her nipples hard and tortured.

photographer unknown. Sourced from the interweb

Friday, October 26, 2012

need, desire, trust

There is a feeling growing in me that I want and need to give Local D everything of me. There is also a feeling of frustration at my inability to do so. I am just not brave enough to go against what Non-Dom expects and trusts me to do. I am not brave enough to go against what Non-Dom and I have agreed and the terms under which he is allowing me to see D. I am embarrassed to say what I want. But there is a feeling growing in me that D is not getting what he may need from me though he denies this. I have never met such a patient man. So much self-control. I have begged him, in the heat of the moment for things he and I have not agreed upon. I have pushed my face so hard into his groin in absolute unadulterated need, lust and want.
 
He has never even come close to answering my begging. He says it will never happen unless we have revisited our agreement. In that way he exhibits the highest sense of integrity. When I started this journey some three or so years ago, the first thing I thought I learned was about the nature of male sexuality. I embraced it, loved it and finally felt I understood it. I came to the conclusion that men were purely sexual beings. But the one thing I didn't understand is a man's ability of self control. I don't know if all men have this in them, but Local D has always impressed me with his, at least once I came to recognise it. It took me a while to understand this fundamental sense of self control was present in him. I guess I feel in the moment I can safely beg him to do things to me, and I do mean beg, forbidden by our agreement knowing that part of my brain is thinking, 'no no no ...I'm not allowed to do it'. In that moment I feel safe in the knowledge that he is strong enough for both of us, not to cross that line.
I really wish I wasn't a woman who cared about Non-Dom's wishes and I could do these things. I have never been a prude. But when it come to these things, I feel an overwhelmingly dramatic sense of guilt underpinned by my commitment to Non-Dom. I hate that.
 
I read a woman's blog here in blog land. She is amazingly like me. I have read her from her first post. Her career path, her life path: I swear we have been separated at birth. One difference? She does not appear to be having much sex with her hub (I think) and she IS having amazing all-in sex with her Dom she found about 6 months ago. I envy her that.
Non-Dom trusts me. Trust has been a shaky piece of ground over the last few years. We have worked hard to trust each other again. I don't think it will ever be blind trust like I had before, but there is trust again. I love him and as much as there are gaping holes in my fulfilment, the love is the thing that encourages me not to break the trust. I have already skirted the boundary and dipped my toe on the other side. Non-Dom would not approve at all of what I have allowed with Local D.
photographer unknown. Source: Internet

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

phone call control

He called this morning.

I had been given a lovely task.
Today I was to cum 8 times with the aid of Mr Buzzy. Just when I was feeling all disconnected and Loosey Goosey-like.

I made it to 5 quite quickly and easily.
On my knees, Mr Buzzy doing his magic.
A text sent to the Outback told him:
One, Good morning Sir.
Two, an early start.
Three, quiet and gentle,
Four, loud and proud,
Five, hot on the heels of four and a little tired.
The next text to the Outback reported I was resting comfortably.

The phone rang. I looked on the caller ID to see with some glee that it was Him.

'Hello Sir!' in my happiest excited voice.

'Put the nipple clamps on and cum three more times. Now.'

The eighth had barely subsided when he demanded another.
I heard myself  beg him in a breathless sweaty voice, 'No, please, I can't.'
He is fond of saying, 'I don't care, DO IT!'
So again another one. Number 10 rolled in behind that...then he wanted one more!!!
I called him an unflattering name secure in the knowledge that he couldn't reach my arse from where he was. I will no doubt pay for my expletive when he returns. I may be lucky though. He may forget...or not ;).

'Put Mr Buzzy away now and don't touch it, or yourself ,until Friday. We may do this again if I decide you deserve it."

The nipple clamps had to stay on for another 15 minutes though he threatened to lengthen this if I gave him any more attitude. We talked while I waited the 15 minutes. The whip he was searching for, the length and shape he wanted. I asked him if I could request something. He has never denied me, not really, but maybe that's the kinky bitch in me needing everything he encourages me to need. I asked him if he would clamp my clit. 'Of course!' he said 'Good Girl' (oh heavenly words). I have never asked him for anything directly. I have hinted either by action or in word, but never really asked directly for him to hurt me, *do* things to me. His enthusiastic reply made me backtrack a little. He won't allow that. Once it is said, once the desire is made explicit, the need known, he will move all obstacles to *make it so number one*.

Meanwhile...

My left nipple cried in pain.

At the fifteen minute mark to the second according to his watch, which seemed a lot slower than the clock I was watching, he told me to take the clamps off my nipples.

'Right first.'

'Ouch!

'Left.'...

I screamed..it really hurt!

Really!

All in all though, an erotic start to my day.



photographer unknown. Source: internet

Sunday, October 21, 2012

adrift without a D to my s

I have been thinking after a quick read over on Vesta's blog and her post 'home coming'. It occurs to me that with Local D away and I am feeling a little homeless.  A little lost disjointed and disconnected. I am achy and pouty and bloody needy tonight. I feel a sense of displacement. There is no comfortable peace, just the frustration of waiting and wanting for a place to rest. 

The greedy lil girl can't take phone calls easily and Local D's work commitments means he is not readily contactable, although if I text he does text back within a few hours (not terrific when one is seeking permission to cum!). He is in such remote locations that he hasn't even got internet access!! there's my first world problem for today.

Non-Dom asked if Local D had gone away. I nodded and said I was a little stir crazy. I said I was missing the kiss of the flogger, the sting of his hand. To his credit, Non-Dom held me by the throat and kissed me hard..bringing a smile to the girls face and to a some degree bringing me home.

unknown photographer. Source: Internet

Friday, October 19, 2012

first meeting - written assignment

She was very nervous, excited and ready.

He lived so far away she guessed they would never meet. They had corresponded through the miles and over the last year. It began innocently enough. He contacted her with some innocent comment never meant to be anymore than a simple exchange that would be lost in time between them. She was taken with his openness and was humbled that He showed so much trust in her, so fundamentally at such an early juncture. It took her longer to give her trust entirely but now as she travelled to meet Him for the very first time she could think of nothing but giving everything to Him. Anything that he asked of her was His to have. She was His, body, mind and spirit.

He had travelled to her city for some business or another, but in that time He was making a weekend available for her. He had rented a small house on the beach in the south of her life in town. When she arrived He would be there. She imagined walking through door to finally meet the man she had come to know in every way but touch. She ached to know Him, please Him.

She arrived at the door and knocked lightly, suddenly nervous that she was standing in the open with only a short dress to comfort her modesty. As instructed she wore no bra or panties under the short red dress. Her hair hung curled around her shoulders and her feet too were naked but for the red of her painted toes. She knew He would strip her bare. She knew He would expose her for the slut she wanted to be, for the slut she knew she was and He knew it too. He had always seen it in her.

The door opened after she had waited there for minutes. Her eyes fell to the floor as He had said she was to do. She wasn't to look at him. The smell of sand and sea made her giddy and she could feel His height towering over her.

"Take your dress off."

A hesitation. She was on the doorstep. She was exposed, though the remote location gave her some comfort. She reached down and grasping her dress pulled it up over her head.

"Hand it to me."

With outstretched arm she offered the garment to him.

"This is Mine for the time you are here. You are Mine for all time. Do you understand?"

"Yes Daddy."

The excitement in her grew. She felt herself wet as she shivered a little on the doorstep. He reached forward and caressed her hair. His hand slid down her skin and cupped her breast squeezing slightly, pulling and pinching at her nipple making her wince slightly. His hands travelled behind her back. His fingers probed between her thighs. She opened her legs.

"You will not close your legs in my presence. Do you understand me young lady?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good girl. Now you may look at me."

Her eyes met His as his finger slid inside her slick cunt. She gasped at this little pleasure He had allowed her. For a second she almost forgot she was still standing in the open. She flushed with embarrassment at the realisation of what she was doing. He pulled his fingers away and offered them to her mouth, tracing her lips with her own juices.

"Open."

She took his finger in her mouth, tasting herself, her tongue feeling the smooth texture of each finger. Her scent travelled to her nostrils and she drank it in. Her nipples hardened in response to this display of ownership over her. He pulled her inside and she knelt as he bade her never taking her eyes from His.

"Crawl."

As she crawled  ahead of him, he watch the rhythmic wiggle of her arse. He knew what was in store for that arse..if only she did, would she still be here? He knew that  she would of course even if she doubted it herself. He would teach her never to doubt herself. He would teach her never to deny herself. He would show her that she is at her best when she embraced herself freely and without reservation. In fact He would demand it and it started here, in this first weekend.

He sat in a large leather armchair. She was in front of Him. She was turned away with her back to Him, her face resting on the floor, her arms outstretched, knees wide apart and her round arse in the air, offered for His inspection. Her breath was ragged as she waited. Her puckered arse had been decorated with a sparkly bright toy readying her for Daddy's cock. Her pussy glistened in the sunshine entering through the windows. The clear blue sky and gentle sea breeze flowed through the window bringing with it the only sound she could hear, the ebb and flow of the sea waves rolling onto the beach outside the windows.

"Come here young lady."

He pulled her over his lap. Her embarrassment was complete. His hand began to warm her arse. Lightly at first, almost lovingly. The sting in her arse was building and she began to wiggle, squirm on His lap. As His blows got stronger the sweat grew on her brow. Relief came when He paused to check her state. Her slickness told the story of her reaction to His blows. He whispered in her ear. He whispered things that made His girl blush. He called her names. She was His slut, His good girl, His delicious little whore. The heat built in her cunt. The ache and throb in her pink wet flesh soon had her begging for His cock. She needed Him, she needed to be fucked. He continued to whisper to her,

"You are My needy little bitch. Squirming and writhing for Daddy's cock. You are My slut, My little good girl whore. Even so, I don't think you have earned it yet do you little slut?"

"No Daddy." she agreed in a ragged voice.

Tears welled in her eyes as her bottom became more and more reddened and bruised. She wiggled and squirmed on Daddy's lap. She was approaching distress but didn't want Daddy to stop. She loved the feeling of her bottom under His hand. She never wanted Him to stop, perhaps only to fuck her.

He pushed her off His lap to her knees. He bound her wrists and ankles and hogtied her. He stood, His cock straining against His trousers, His hand held her chin as He looked down at her.

"Now, open your mouth little one. You are going to please Daddy's cock. Then if you are very good my girl, Daddy's cock will replace that sparkly diamond in your puckered hole and Daddy will fuck your arse."

It occured to him that His slut was never so beautiful as now with watering eyes, her mascara smudged around them and her throat filled with cock. Her dark blond hair was twisted around His fist as He fucked her mouth and encouraged her gag. His power was clear as He blocked her breath with His shaft and when He allowed she gulped in the air that sustained her conciousness.

This is how their first meeting started. She was His. She was owned and she finally knew it, from the second she knocked lightly on the door.


unknown photographer. Source: the internet


Thursday, October 18, 2012

release the hounds! (breasts on display)

Local D is away and I admit I am struggling. We have not had the opportunity negotiate a relationship or rather the character of the relationship when he is away. He is a long way away in remote locations with days that begin early and go late into the night, sometimes into the early hours of the morning. I have taken to keeping my phone on silent as there have been text messages as late as 1am, very unusual for him, though the risk is kind of exciting for me. Traditionally I have not been a girl that responds well to risk.

He issued an instruction today, one that made me anxious. No panties of course, no problem (when I'm not at work). When I'm at work without stockings and only a summer frock, well that's a different story! In addition to a bare arsed girl, he decided that I should go out into the world with no bra. I was silent when I heard the words. Is he serious? He knows I hate this thought and he has not ever demanded it before. He has hinted that one day he might, but until now nothing.

"Text me when it is done."

I am not in my twenties. These puppies have done their womanly duty in child-rearing and girl fun. These fun bags deserve the over-shoulder boulder holder in situ. These boobs, hooters, tits, tatas are shapely and on the larger side, though not enormous. This puts me in mind of the first question asked by most men online, 'bra size?'  When I dabbled in online forums I thought it such a strange thing to ask. After all there was no cam involved, I could have said anything, 'big or small, what's your pleasure?' So what was the obsession with the answer to this question? I never really came to a satisfactory conclusion. But I am off the track...

The instruction was explicit. "No bra or panties around the house today, no bra at least once when you go out today." I hesitated, silent. My mind spinning, thinking...too much as I am want to do.

Now I know this is a basic thing, this little task. The thought of going out with the girls swinging free however, bouncing buoyantly, but frankly not as perky as they once were, drove in me an anxiety that threatened to overwhelm my submissve self.

"Yes Sir."

I went out, bra securely in place. Panties not so securely in place.

Later in a large shopping centre car park I sat in the car thinking. Silence. I looked around at the cars surrounding mine. Not a soul in sight. I reached under my shirt to my bra clasp and let it loose. As I watched a motorcyclist in the rear view mirror travelling toward me, my hand slid first up the sleeve of my right arm and pulled my bra strap down and off. The left repeated, I reached up under the front of my shirt and pulled my bra away to decamp my breasts from their comfortable citadel.

I was struck by the tension between the freedom I felt and the anxiety in my breath. Though my next move should have been to start the car, slip into drive and point the wheel to home, I opened the car door and got out. Closing the the door behind me, I stood looking at my reflection in the glass. I drank in the hang of my breast under my tight shirt, the shape of my nipple standing proud. I saw too the shape and pink colour of my areolar though the white of  the cotton fabric. I messaged my obedience while I gazed at my reflection. Then, I got back in the car and drove home.

photographer unknown. Source: the internet

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Q&A

You asked-Has Local D ever just stripped you and made you lay across his lap for a spanking? tell me about it and how it made you feel.

I think a couple of times but it is always spontaneous never ceremonial in nature. Except maybe the first time.
The first time I went to the room.
It was the very first thing he did.
It was uncomfortable, mostly. Making me feel uneasy but i think that was more to do with the newness of our encounter than being unsure about the spanking.
He had undressed me, touched me. I was amazed at how easily I stood still for him, my hand gravitating naturally to clasp each other behind my back. 
His hands, these hands of a new man adventuring everywhere, anywhere he decided, pinching, grasping, caressing, all the places that only one man had been for the last 15 yrs.
My lumps and bumps didn't matter, my insecurities about my body didn't matter. He was clothed and as he walked around me he gauged my reaction.
I was only a little wet I think, so nervous that first time Daddy.
He paddled my bottom with his hand a couple of times and I felt myself wet, my lips let go a trammelled whisper, 'oh fuck'.
He bent me over and spanked again..I love his spanks, he does it so that my bottom wobbles rhythmically like a jelly filled rubber balloon.

He sat, and pulled me across his lap, I felt uncomfortable, uneasy. I was so very nervous suddenly there in such an intimate circumstance with this man I barely knew. Trusting him with everything. Trusting he would send me home to my family at the end of the day.

I don't think he really does much of it anymore...mostly when we rest, I lay my head in his lap and sometimes, when he thinks I have rested enough, I get a pussy slapping which I like very much.
But Daddy there is not much I don't like from him, we have discovered together that I am a very kinky bitch...
 
unknown photographer. Source the Internet
 

Sunday, September 23, 2012

patience

 I was very excited to get an email  from within blog land in which my correspondent described how they admired that I found a solution; a way for Non-Dom to accept the presence of a Dom in my life. I do agree, I have been fortunate.  I would be unable to do this in secrecy. The guilt would sap all enjoyment for me. I have never 'cheated' on Non-Dom though seriously at times I could not have been blamed for doing so!

Life is complicated isn't it? We all have needs and desires and it's how we acknowledge them and have them sated that is the real dilemma.

Much of my social world requires that monogamy be held up as a basic pillar. This often doesn't fit well with the desires ordinary people find inside themselves. The trick is to answer them without hurting anyone else.

I have limits determined by my Non-Dom hub. I am not allowed to engage in certain activities with my Dom which makes it hard sometimes. Local D and I met at a time when he had another girl. He was seeking someone to supplement his experience with her as she was away for extended periods of time. So really I was only ever meant to be a stand-in. A body to replace hers when she was unavailable. This suited me. I didn't want any emotional entanglements, and I didn't want to be relied on to be His sub in case it interfered with my relationship with Non-Dom, which is a delicate balance at the best of times.

The limits placed upon me by Non-Dom were agreeable to local D as he had no need for the things that I was asked not to do. Further Non-Dom has always had the right of veto. If he turned around tomorrow and said, "Stop seeing him", I would be bound to stop. In this way Local D and I play together but the level of commitment to each other that I see in other relationships here in blog land is somewhat muted (I think). He views me as his girl outside the room and inside it. The practicalities however of our separate lives and my relationship with Non-Dom mean that sense of belonging is less than it would be if I were able to commit to him completely. I am aware that this would not be for everyone in the all or nothing world view of D/s, but that's where a girl has to take what she can get and what she gets is actually more than she ever dreamed possible.

I see this as a progressive and developing relationship though and as with all boundaries and limitations, I think they will expand and wear down in the fullness of time. I am nothing if not a patient girl.

via ruero.com, photographer pictured ;)
 
 

Friday, September 21, 2012

need

I really don't even know where to start or if I should.
The things I did. The things I allowed and the things I wanted.
I want too much.
I want beyond the limits place on me by both me and Non-Dom.

photographer unknown. Source: Internet

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Whip

Now we know that my relationship with local D is about play.
He has been 'soft' with me...his words not mine..but yes I agree. We laugh a lot together and I admit I really don't know what darkness might fill his mind.

I was adamant that this softness as he described it was not some sort of failure or mistake. I am aware that he has been gentle with me. He has been this way because I am new to this game. I am aware he didn't want to overwhelm me or scare me away. I admit though I am keen for him to step it up a notch or two. How he does that without losing what we have I am not sure.

So yesterday we were chatting online and he asked the question,

"How much do you trust me, honestly?"

I took this to mean how much do I trust him with my well being, when he is in charge of me physically.

"Implicitly" and I have to say I do. I have every confidence that he will hit me, beat me, whip me and I will come out the other side relatively unscathed. Bruises and marks notwithstanding. They will fade.

Then he began to talk about the whip. Now this would be new. A whip. Crack that whip!

"How would you feel about the whip?"

I jumped at the opportunity is the reaction I had. I have never really given it much thought before because he had earlier said it was too much for this lil chick. Well the delicious little whore was getting excited for a lot of unusual reasons. I have learned I am not a pain slut, so why would I be excited about the whip? I have learned I am a slut for control. I need to be overwhelmed with pure unadulterated strength. Unfortunately Local D likes the odd bit of pain, to inflict it. Here is where he has been easy on me. He knows I don't appear to get off on pain in and of itself. As part of a very hard flogging. As part of a slap and spank..oh yes please. But it is not the reason I get wet. It is being held down and controlled that is the clincher for me.

So this leads to my questions around the whip. I am led to believe that the whip is harsh and painful. In fact he says he wants to move to the whip because I can take all he can give with the flogger (apparently - mental note to self...scream more!). I got all excited at the thought of the whip. I keep saying I want to try everything. The girl doesn't know what she doesn't know. I have begged him, implored him to pull everything out of his bag of tricks. His reply...

"Be careful what you wish for."

So now I'm excited and nervous...more nervous...but very very excited.

I'm excited! Unknown Photographer. Source: the Intranet

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

something has to change

Well I'm sick!
No really sick..I have got the flu for the second time this winter. There are a couple of strains and I didn't get the vaccination for the one that was available.

I have generously shared it with the family and am officially sick of myself.

Life has conspired to make me quite miserable at the moment. I am unhealthy and unhappy. Work is the thorn in my lion's paw and really getting me down. Impossible deadlines and too much on my plate for me to deliver the outcomes needed..let alone the one's I'd like to deliver. I have seriously considering leaving though I have to admit I haven't got the energy to excel at finding an alternative and winning it, let alone doing a good job once I did win it! Work-life balance has suffered for a while (even though I am part-time), and I am doing a bad job in all aspects of my life (mothering, worker, wife, daughter). The only part of me that seems to be working is the no strings, no responsibility slut!

The other part of my life spinning out of control is my fitness. Gym has been a couple of times a week if that, and I know that it will take me forever to get back into it as I recover from this bout of illness. I want to be fitter. Maybe heading into summer this will be easier to achieve. There is a certain melancholy that has bubbled over me holding me down a little this Winter. That has to change.

Something has to change.

photographer unknown. Source: the Internet

Monday, September 17, 2012

spoiled girl

I am sitting here reading blogs waiting for Local D to come online. A message from him said he would be here.

I have been sick this past week and a half and I have missed our contact. I am still not feeling particularly sexy and I am now looking after other members of my family with whom I have so generously shared my disease. BUT...I am waiting, sooky, for my Local D to come online.

While I wait and outside this time, I have felt the tension building. He is going away soon and circumstance means I probably won't meet with him before he goes away. He will be out of contact save for a few text messages. I am aware that I am going to hate this! There is a balance to me when I am able to see him. To receive my fix, my dose.

Most would advise that he leave me with something to be going on with (kneeling, kowtow or any manner of exercises designed to help me maintain my place). Grrrrrrr!

We had avoided these things. They have been tried but now avoided (not my decision). My very real problem as I see it, is the loss of his control. It's his touch I need. His firm hand. I have got out of the habit of following instructions not delivered in person. Our relationships mean that we have been very careful not to cross a line which may play into the lives of the significant others. There are barriers between us borne of this awareness. It is not a perfect D/s relationship, but it has worked for us, for the moment. Losing access to him for a relatively long period of time feels almost tragic. We have made an effort to see each other fortnightly though with illness and life this sometimes doesn't work. I was due to go to him this week though current circumstance says that this won't be happening. It is likely then that I will not see him now until December but with holiday festivities it's more likely to be the end of January.


unknown photographer. Source: Internet

Sunday, September 16, 2012

whats a girl to do without a slap?

OK..I'm back and I have something to say.

I am not looking forward to this..

I am panic stricken!

I don't now how to survive between now and December without His slap!

I will die! (ever the drama queen :)

I will shrivel, end up in tears, kicking my feet....pouty.

I need to be slapped and often.

Hub (sweet man) suggested a temping agency when I told him Local D was going away. With my tongue planted firmly in my cheek I said I'd ask Local D for his recommendation. Can you imagine? A recommended stand-in, an understudy, would have to be bloody good to compare!

I do appreciate you,
your skill,
your patience.
Not really understanding what was good skill and what was not in the beginning, it has only dawned on me over time how lucky I am to have found you. To have found a man with your experience and skill.

I am a very lucky girl indeed.

But shit Sir!!!! What will I do without your control...without your slap for so long?

What's a girl to do?

photographer unknown. source: the Internet






Sunday, September 9, 2012

a D session (part three)

Minutes ran by her.

Sweat beaded on her brow and between her breasts.

He had not allowed her to cum. Her predicament amusing Him too much. She always looked at her most precious when her face was contorted in need. The buzz of the magic wand on her clit made her needy in a way that showed most clearly in her eyes.

He watched her,  kneeling hogtied in front of Him, the crop shaft between her teeth supporting the metal rings that pulled on the clover nipple clamps. Her nipples and breasts stretched, twisted and pulled with each back thrust of her neck as her eyes rolled and travelled to the ceiling. The ecstasy of her slut pussy driving her writhing as she tried desperately not to cum without His say so.

He got hard watching His slut as she tried to master her predicament. As she wriggled and squirmed. Tension building quickly in her slut cunt and whore body. She was so beautiful and becoming more so with each time He had her.

He could see her coming close, it didn't take long with this tool. Her cunt ached for it. Wet for it. Was a whore for it. He slid His large rough fingers between the black leather collar and her soft flesh. He had only recently placed the collar on her. She had not been easy to 'collar' even though it was just for play. She had been nervous of the power of this small piece of leather. She had come to it over time and He had been very patient, almost too patient He thought to Himself. He wanted to explore this lilone though and He knew she was skittish. She had needed the time He gave her to trust Him. His patience was rewarded with her submission to Him. Though He remained cautious and He had not pushed her as far as He might until now, she met His challenges each time. She had not only acquiesced to His demands but she went further, driven not by her conscious mind, but pushed by her visceral need. She was hungry, insatiable and unashamed. She was perfect.

She was building, becoming desperate, drooling with the crop shaft between her teeth. He knew she'd hate that. She struggled with the acceptance of the loss of control over her body entirely. He knew any moment she would make a decision that He would not like. He loved it when she gave Him an excuse. Then it happened, the crop fell from her teeth pulling with it the chains that lead to her swollen nipples. The shaft was blocked from its inevitable descent by His forearm as he worked the wand into her slut pussy. Their eyes met. Hers filled with trepidation at the unknown consequence of a failed instruction. His told a story of a satisfaction that filled her with foreboding. He threw her backwards clasping the collar tightly in His fingers. She let out a gasp and a whimper as the paraphernalia attached to her nipples pulled and twisted in tortuous climax. He brought her to a sudden holt inches from the floor. Her back arched and her cunt exposed to Him for His pleasure, His rag doll whore could barely contain herself. She was losing all ability to control anything of herself . She gave in, fell, she was His in that moment.

"Pleasepleaseplease. May I cum. Please?" She pleaded with Him. Not really knowing how she would stop the energy escaping her cunt if He disallowed it's relief.

"Please what?" His calm slow voice drove her desperation.

"PleaseSirmayIcumnow?" Tears welling in her pleading eyes.

"CUM!"

The fury washed over her and through her. He body, arched back and supported only by His strong arm contorted in it's ecstasy. His hand slid to her clenching pink flesh, pushing into her as she clenched around him. She screamed her ecstasy to Him. She was His in every way in that moment. She loved Him, worshipped Him, needed Him and His command in every part of her existence and fibre. Tears flooded her eyes as He pulled her forward like the rag doll she had become. His control, His embrace, His voice, His girl.

"good girl."


photographer unknown, source:intranet






Wednesday, September 5, 2012

a D session (part two)

He sat on the chair. She stood in front of him. One heeled foot at a time she placed her foot on the chair just millimeters from his groin. One by one he strapped the cuffs on her ankles.

"On your knees."

She knelt in front of Him and offered her wrists. Left then right to receive their bindings. He picked up the black leather collar with red stitching. It had a perfectly round silver gleaming metal O ring in front. She had come to call this her collar, accepting it as hers over the last few months.  She had resisted it at first, not entirely sure about her own submission. Now during these times she felt naked without it, without her pretty collar. She bowed her head as he wrapped it around her neck buckling it behind her. Not too tightly. He preferred to be able to slide his fingers between the collar and her neck. He was able to exert more than enough physical control over her that way. On her knees she climaxed for him and he'd easily throw her backward arching her back and her torso, bringing her to a sudden and jolting stop as he prevented her from falling to the ground with a strong hand slipped between her soft flesh and her collar.

Now she knelt before him hogtied, her wrists cuffed to her ankles. She looked expectantly into his eyes. He reached into his bag and  pulled from it the things she hated the most; clover clamps hung with a short chain and a ring on each end and the stingy crop. Then he pulled out the thing she loved most, the buzzy magic wand that made her come within seconds of him applying it to her slut pussy. Fear and delight filled her in one moment.

In silence he took one nipple at a time between his fingers attacking them with the bite of the clamp. The pain shot through each breast. Her nipples were hard even though she hated the clamps. She was never very good with nipple clamps...well they just hurt.

"I was 2 minutes late, really only 1 minute, but by the time you opened the door it was 2." she pouted.

"What did My watch tell you honey, when I showed it to you?"

"It showed me 3 minutes past the time You said"

"..and what is 3 minus 2 honey?"

"One Sir,"

"So either way honey, you were still late."

His logic made no sense to her. She pouted. The slap came hard and fast across her cheek. A gasp escaped her but she could feel herself wet in an instant. She steadied herself as he threaded the rings that hung on the end of each clamped nipple with the shaft of the crop. Her eyes widened and a small smile travelled across her face joining the glint in her bright eyes.

He raised the crop carefully. She could feel the torture on her sensitive nipples just the same.

"Open your mouth."

She opened, at once becoming aware of what he was doing. He placed the crop shaft between her teeth.

"Hold it."

He picked up the buzzy wand and held it to her cheek.

"Now, you will hold the shaft in your mouth, you will not drop it and My girl, you will not come."

He flicked the switch, and pressed the vibrating magic to her wet cunt. Her neck arched back with the feeling she could barely contain, pulling on the clamps with a searing pain through her nipples.

She knew she would try everything not to be late in the future...or maybe not she smiled to herself.





phtographer unknown: source-internet

Monday, September 3, 2012

a D session (part one)

She walked quickly from the car to the door, knocking as she balanced to put her follow me, fuck me black patent peep toe pumps on her feet. A less than graceful act but one repeated the world over by women with car-to-bar shoes in their wardrobe.

She was aware that she was late, only by a little but He had been very clear. Not a minute early, not a minute late. She was a minute late and as she waited for Him to open the door she noticed that minute turned to two minutes.

He greeted her as always, happy to see her, complimenting her about her dress, the brightness in her face and her beauty.

Once inside he held his watch up to her eyes.

"What does that read Honey?"

"10:18 Sir."

"You are late, 3 minutes late."

"Yes Sir, the traffic..."

He smiled a quiet smile. The kind of smile that made her a little nervous.

"Turn around, let me see you."

He liked what he saw, she had come dressed a little more conservatively today, no corset and her dress reached just to her knee, but she was always pleasingly sexy in her curvature.

As she turned she bent over from the hips, parted her legs and lifted her dress to show him her bare arse. He immediately spanked her bottom propelling her forward so hard that she had to put her hands out to the couch in front of her to steady herself. He loved to see the flesh of her butt cheeks react in waves under his hand. He slid his fingers along her slit. She was already wet for him. She was a good slut, he'd give her that, though a little tardy, but nothing that couldn't be corrected.

"Stand up."

She did as He instructed.

"Take off your dress."

She slipped her dress easily over her head. Standing naked before him for the first time in weeks. Her nipples were already hard nubs.

"Now, 3 minutes. I had expressly instructed you not to be late and now it seems we will have to deal with this before we go any further today. Do you agree?"

She looked at her red painted toenails peeking out from her pumps, they looked so pretty she thought to herself as she replied,

"Yes Sir."




unknown photographer. Source : Internet

Sunday, September 2, 2012

slap

I have considered before the face slap. Lil got me thinking again in her post I need you to hit me about the face slap. My thoughts about the face slap have not changed. I am an unashamed face slap slut. Quite seriously if this is all that Local D did to me I would forever live in bliss. The slapped face has the ability to take me to that dreamy place. As I gaze into his eyes I can see him reading me, I can see him taking me there to that dreamy place. The face slap takes my breath away, it makes me gasp and then break into smiles of delight. He does not use it as a corrective measure but he does use it to subdue his girl. This sick lil bitch can't get enough of the face slap.

I wonder why it remains such a contentious issue in ttwd? Isn't the act of the face slap just another tool in an arsenal of tools designed to deepen submission and lets face it (sorry for the pun), thrill a Dom/me to see their subbie react in whatever way they might? I find it an unusual argument to align the discussion of the face slap with the conditions of family and domestic violence. Sub women and men in ttwd - bdsm  are consensually engaged in many acts which the mainstream (vanilla) world would view as abuse.

I would argue that statements about women being elevated to strong, beautiful beings, venerated by their Doms for their gift of submission, might be viewed as an expression of the battered wife or even Stockholm syndrome in the vanilla world. So why is the face slap sometimes placed in a different category to say a caned bottom left with bruising, welts and in some cases broken skin?

The key is consent, as with everything in ttwd. The face slap is no more abuse in a consensual relationship than the cane, or a hand spanking. There appears to be an agreement that the power of the act is different in some way. A suggestion has been made that the face slap is 'personal'. It's meaning holds a different and perhaps deeper resonance to the individual receiving the slap.  I have noticed though the struggle that women have in accepting the face slap as a 'normal' part of ttwd. Maybe it's this difference of power imbued in the act that encourages questions of it's legitimacy; that the face slap is an act which is abuse.

Todays picture is a bit flippant and is not design to resemble uncontrolled, non-consensual abuse in any way ;).

Source: DIY.DESPAIR.COM


Saturday, September 1, 2012

good vibrations

I am still basking in all the good feelings from yesterday.

There needs to be a word to express it,

how I feel,

particularly about you at times like this.

I feel close.

A groovy kind of feeling.

I love it.

It feels special, not awkward at all.

Just where I should be having been intimate with a man not my own.

It's better than previous times.

Its not as elevated as it was those other times.

Its a kind of peaceful assurance that all is as it should be.

It is a feeling that you have brought me too.

It's nice.




John Austin 1992. Source: Internet


 

pinch & a punch

First  of the Month

Happy September..gosh hasn't the year flown! So many deadlines looming and not enough time to deliver!

Friday, August 31, 2012

submission 10

10) Does any element of BDSM occur as a part of your submissive relationships? How do you feel about BDSM? Is it core to your submission, peripheral or non-existent (other than the submission part)?

BDSM is intrinsic to my submission.

I have not thought about this deeply...there are so many expressions of BDSM which for me each in its separate entirety are tools to express and experience submission.

If  B were missing from my experience..horrible! Restraint is key for me..though I have never experienced knotty restraint. With Local D I am restrained, this is where I feel my submission most acutely. There are chains, there is leather, there are implements and acts that restrain my body and mind, demanding self control. Bondage in the true sense of the word, the beauty of knots, is not key for me, but the restraint that is intrinsic to those knots is essential.

D (Discipline, Domination- receiving end only thank you)..essential, how else do I feel my 's'. Discipline puts me into that 'lil girl, young lady' head space and Domination, yum, just yum.

S (submission, Sadism) Submission (DoH!). Sadism, now this is interesting. I am drawn to it but so very nervous of it. Lets face it though, sadism is probably a question of degrees. Nothing thrills me more than a Dom letting their Sadist out to play. Having said that, not much of a pain slut in this lil girl. I do get turned on when a man revels in inflicting a bit of discomfort or even pain for his pleasure. That glint in his eye. My sick lil puppy quite likes the attention that a sadistic act gives to its victim. There's probably a lot more there for me to explore...one day...maybe ;)

M (Masochism)..well I've always had a tendency to be a martyr. Enough said.

Writing these words  has surprised me. I am a girl 'into' all that kinky stuff. So much so I cannot separate submission from BDSM. I don't know what that would look like.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:BDSM_acronym.svg

Thursday, August 30, 2012

preparation

Tomorrow.

1015, not  minute earlier, not a minute later.

There will be consequences for a breach.

Tomorrow.

Plans swimming in readiness,

prepare the lunches,

kiss the family, sending them to their day.

Shower.

Hair removed,

hair washed,

nails painted, fuck me red.

lips glossed,

eyes defined.

Skin massaged with creams.

Body dressed.

Growing heat,

wet,

nervous,

excited,

drive...

1015

Not a minute earlier, not a minute later,

Yes Sir.

photographer unknown. Source - Internet

Sunday, August 26, 2012

what about me?

Yesterday I was hanging around online chatting with a friend in another city when someone quite lovely jumped into the ping box I have popped on the blog.

We began to chat. I am hoping that she won't mind me telling 'all' ..well not all, I am always very careful to protect privacy, mine and other's. I have lived a life understanding and taking very seriously the concept of confidentiality so people, your secrets are safe in my ...ahem..vault..(pun intended).

We chatted about all things. She was very interested to know the future of my relationship with Local D and was quite sure she was not interested in a purely play relationship with any Dom. She is young  and has been looking to D/s as a way forward for her in her life. I envied her at once when she told me she had been aware of her yearning since her teenage years. Now in her twenties she hoped to find someone who could be her partner, lover, friend and most certainly her Dom. All those things that have passed me by for the simple reason I didn't recognise this thing in me until relatively recently.

The Internet has made known those possibilities not available when I was younger. There was no Internet in existence save for in the US defence forces. The concept of multiple points of entry to exchange information was only just beginning in the civil world (certainly in my civil world). CD ROM's were the way to gain information...and email...huh wtf?

Anyway this beautiful young woman suggested that it would be nice to know more about the writer behind the 'smut' as she called it. That made me smile. "Perhaps one of those 100 questions things." I have been very careful not to give too much away of the vanilla me. I have not wish to be exposed for the slut / whore I aspire to be ;). I am also painfully aware that I have only ever had a target audience of 1.. li'l ol' me :)

My question then, does anyone know of an interesting 100 questions (perhaps around twenty in number?). I am still working (rather slowly) on the 30 days of submission questions. Or even better what, if anything, do people wish to know..maybe that's the way to go? (Frankly I can't really imagine people would want to know anything much people have their own very busy lives). Does the smut do its own job? What are the curiosities out there when you read the meanderings posted here?

Comments or email..whichever you prefer.
source interweb; Photographer unknown

Saturday, August 25, 2012

happy as...

Well this lil girl is happy as a pig in shi...MuD today.

I have been languishing. Sliding in the mire without very much guidance. Local D has been absent. The girl taking it as it comes. I notice however that when there is a lack of that strong presence in the girls world, she loses her mojo.

Today though, the girl is flying again. Today she had a very rare opportunity to connect with Daddy. All those kilometres away. His voice sends thrills through her every fibre. She is quite sure she has never heard such a damn fine, smooth as silk and golden honey voice. It's depth resonates across all that distance and brings her to him, right in the same room where he sits, caressing her breasts and pinching her firm nipples, offering his cock for her to worship.

He made her cum for His pleasure. Naked and kneeling. Offering her body for him to touch, to control. He drew her commitment to him which she more than willingly gave. Missing His touch she circled her clit with her own fingers...His fingers, His clit, His cunt aching to be giving relief. He surprised her, challenged her. He showed more of himself than she knew before. Showing things that can only be shown in the immediacy of communication by voice or in person.

Then, as she begged for him to give his cunt relief. He made her say those words out loud. She hesitated to say that word, he had not heard it from her lips. She had written it but never said it to him. She respected him so much, she hesitated to beg out loud for His cock in her cunt, in her arse. He made her say it...she shouted it to him with a relief she had not been aware would come.

After she came for Him she fell into bliss. Her smile never leaving her face for the rest of the day and into the next. It can quite easily be said that the girl has a very big crush on Daddy. A crush on everything he is and brings to her.

Thank you Daddy xxx

property of the photographer (unknown) source: the interweb


Monday, August 13, 2012

here is a small task to do on the way

I stopped for a bottle of wine as instructed, my fishnets travelling up under my coat at 10 in the morning had me nervously tugging downwards at my coat. I was on my way to see Local D. He said he was going to push.

I drifted through the wine shop perusing the wines at 10 in the morning. The attendant asked if needed help. 'No, thank you.' I was terrified he might ask for what occasion I needed the wine (uncomfortable shifting on my cherry pop patent pumps with the little red ribbons). What will you be eating? (ahem-blushing). White or red? Though I could answer this question I turned and smiled and  declined his assistance. I noticed his eyes drop to my heeled fishnetted legs. He might have thought I had on a short skirt underneath as the coat I wore dropped to the mid thigh and there was no skirt peeping out under it. In fact the attendant would have been mistaken had he thought that.
Maybe he knew the truth. Maybe he thought to himself, here is a man's girl, I have seen this before. She is naked under that coat but for an adorable red corset cut to show her breasts in such a way that one wonders how her nipples remain just hidden by the edging of black silk. Her round arse is essentially bare. She is wearing no panties, the net of the fish tightly encasing her curves. She is wet about now. The flush of her cheek belies her heat and her quickened breath tells the tale of her fear of being found out by me. Yes she is girl on her way to her Dom. Doing just as he has instructed even though she is blushed with embarrassment at doing so. She has been here before, this girl. I know her and her husband. He usually buys a bottle of Shiraz, a nice big red from the region nearby to share with a meal. His wife though is after a white, a bottle to share in the late afternoon when the days activities have quite worn her out and she lay in his arms resting. Maybe he knew that truth.

I chose and paid for a Pinot Gris from the near by hills. I looked at the men behind the counter, wondering if they could see the ruby red corset through my coat, intricately beaded with tiny black glass squeezing my breasts tight and pushing them up and out the top of the overcoat as an offering. The corset pulled my waist all the way in until it's edges met with the ribbons pulled tight. Earlier, as I pulled the silk ribbon I thought I must have lost weight, this corset shouldn't completely meet! I would have to be careful not to lose anymore or my corsets (the number of which is not unsubstantial) would no longer shape me in the curvy way they do. (Is anyone else laughing as hard as me! yeah right lilo..stop losing weight..I don't think I ever started) I supposed this corset must have been bigger than the others.

Once back in the car I pulled my coat up my fishnetted arse nicely exposing it and sitting proper on the car seat. I thought of Daddy all those kilometers away. He had been the first to teach me to sit proper. The fishnets lead all the way down to my follow me, fuck me heels. I was rather successfully doing my cherry tart meets burlesque theme today. I drove out of the car park waving to the local mums from school who were getting into and out of their cars in the car park and I wondered if they were all buying wine on their way to be spanked and used.

unknown photographer, sourced from the interweb