My master and I are self professed perverts. In Japan we are open about our life and friends all know what we get up to in our spare time. I love being free to be myself and not worry about hiding my other life. However, that’s in Japan. Back home in Canada I come from a conservative town outside of Vancouver. I grew up in the church community, my parents are church leaders (less formal then preachers) I spent many years in private school complete with the uniform, I went to abstinence seminars on no sex before marriage, and most of my friends are strongly religious. I have decided religion is no longer a part of my life but I look the part and I am very good at falling back into my role. My master grew up Atheist with extremely liberal parents who know all about his life, he doesn’t exactly look like a choir boy, he has a tattoo, he`s on the path to quitting smoking but there is no guarantee that will be complete, he occasionally swears and I am not sure if he has ever even been inside a church. He`s flying home with me today for 2 weeks of meet the family.
Luckily they have no idea about our lifestyle but still, this could be a challenge. He has learned the Japanese for bitch in an effort to convert to using that as my endearment. We both wondered at the reaction my family would have if he greeted me with his typical affectionate "morning bitch" when we are all sitting having coffee. I am not sure which my parents would be more upset about, If they knew I was actively involved in bdsm or if they knew I had sex with woman. I will always remember being very traumatized by a sermon given by a gay man at my church who had overcome his sin and given up men as it was the will of god. My family took him out for dinner afterwards and even though I was still strongly indoctrinated at the time something just felt so wrong about it.
Oh and the romantic story of how we met is that he contacted me on a blog I was writing on bondage.com the first week I arrived in Japan. We met a few days later and I’ve been his ever since. The story I told them? I CANT REMEMBER!!! I know I told them some nice sweet story but for the life of me I cant remember what it is. This is why I shouldn’t lie. I suck at it.
My parents have mellowed out a lot lately. They have accepted that all their kids are adults now and although they disagree with a lot of are life choices (and that’s just the ones they know about!) they have been absolute stars at not alienating us. We can now sleep in the same room as our partners and church has become optional when we visit without drama if we don’t go. They even serve wine at the occasional meal. But I’m a little nervous and I know my master is too. I have never brought a guy home before. This should be an interesting two weeks - I will try to keep you posted!
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Morning Quickie
The other couple left the hotel late last night as they lived in the area. My master hadn’t cum yet but was so exhausted from a busy work week as well as 2hours of fucking that we only had energy to relax in the jacuzzi before heading to bed.
As a result he is hard all morning. I enjoy playing with his cock while we bathe and am not surprised when he forcible throws me down on the bed the minute we get out.
“Get into position on the edge of the bed”
He fingers my pussy with his lubed finger asking me how it feels this morning. It is sore. I was fucked multiple times last night by his cock, her strap on and lots of fingers. He slides his cock into me telling that he will take it nice and slow. My pussy is slightly swollen from his pounding so it is tighter than usual. I love how I can feel so much of his cock when it’s tight like this.
He goes nice and slow true to his word but my pussy is still a bit sore. He asks me if it hurts. It does which I admit to him but my biggest concern is he will stop. It does hurt, but it hurts in such an “I know my pussy’s been used and abused and the pains getting me hot” kind of way.
I am getting hornier and hornier and start begging for him to pound harder. He does and it hurts.
“Harder please, oh fuck yes, please fuck me harder”
I’m terrible, I normally never swear but during sex I can’t stop.
I am going wild. I love how the pain mixes with the pleasure. I am so close and want more pain.
“Please master make me hurt, make me hurt”
He knows he has me 100% when he gets me to this point of begging for pain. He starts pounding insanely hard into my raw sore pussy and his hands strike out at my ass. It only takes a minute of this before we both orgasm and collapse.
We are doing well, we still have 10 minutes to shower, pack up the toys and make it out of the room in time for check out.
As a result he is hard all morning. I enjoy playing with his cock while we bathe and am not surprised when he forcible throws me down on the bed the minute we get out.
“Get into position on the edge of the bed”
He fingers my pussy with his lubed finger asking me how it feels this morning. It is sore. I was fucked multiple times last night by his cock, her strap on and lots of fingers. He slides his cock into me telling that he will take it nice and slow. My pussy is slightly swollen from his pounding so it is tighter than usual. I love how I can feel so much of his cock when it’s tight like this.
He goes nice and slow true to his word but my pussy is still a bit sore. He asks me if it hurts. It does which I admit to him but my biggest concern is he will stop. It does hurt, but it hurts in such an “I know my pussy’s been used and abused and the pains getting me hot” kind of way.
I am getting hornier and hornier and start begging for him to pound harder. He does and it hurts.
“Harder please, oh fuck yes, please fuck me harder”
I’m terrible, I normally never swear but during sex I can’t stop.
I am going wild. I love how the pain mixes with the pleasure. I am so close and want more pain.
“Please master make me hurt, make me hurt”
He knows he has me 100% when he gets me to this point of begging for pain. He starts pounding insanely hard into my raw sore pussy and his hands strike out at my ass. It only takes a minute of this before we both orgasm and collapse.
We are doing well, we still have 10 minutes to shower, pack up the toys and make it out of the room in time for check out.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Learning to be vulnerable
I sometimes have problems with thinking of emotions as valid, with worrying about being perceived as weak, with letting people inside my mind and especially inside my heart. It doesn't fit in very well with a power exchange relationship so I’m working on it.
I lost a friend early this year. We were just casual bar friends but it hit me very hard as she lived in the same town as me, was the same age and was brutally murdered after being tortured over a couple days by one of her language students who had a thing for western woman. I wrote my master a message the night it happened as I was in shock and upset and that felt natural. The next morning I instantly regretted it. I hated that I had let my emotional guards down and acted in what I thought of as a needy way. I was supposed to go to his house for the weekend but texted him to tell him I was too tired to go that weekend. I was really avoiding going when I felt weak which he knew full well. However, I did want to be with him and the combination of feeling unsafe (they didn’t catch the guy and he’d lived insanely near to me), the lack of ability to walk anywhere without journalists asking questions (in Japan you really do stand out as a western woman), being surrounded by mutual friends of hers and mine who just wanted to talk and talk about it (not my style) and longing for a good night’s sleep without the light on had me decide at last minute to go to his place after all.
I always envied girls who could put their head on their boyfriends shoulder and cry it all out. Back then I didn’t cry (things have changed) and if I was ever going to cry it would be in privacy, complete privacy. I spent so much energy that weekend trying to act normal, to seem upbeat etc. He was so good at being extra cuddly, suggesting long baths and hot tea and dragging me out for a run to de-stress. However, every time I got close to losing it I would leave the room and shut a door until I calmed down. Simply shut him out. I knew it hurt him when I would tell him "don’t hug me!" out of fear of losing it but he was trying to be respectful; and let me process in my own way. The last day though he’d had enough and asked me if I was up for a light sm session and I very hesitantly agreed, I think I knew what would happen. He gave me a spanking and I could feel myself start to lose it. I fought it and held on to control. He then tied me to the table and started flogging me. Control slipped. I started crying, silent tears hidden by my hair but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop. Giving him control physically let me lower my emotional guards. I hid it to the best of my ability but he asked me to look at him at one point and was shocked to see that I had been sobbing. I begged him not to stop, I needed this, I needed the excuse to release everything and I needed to not have control for it to happen. When you are tied you cannot close doors between you. He kept going telling me to let it all out. Eventually he untied me and I curled up at his feet with my head on his lap. At his feet with him in control it was so much easier to let go and I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed. I kept apologizing, kept wanting to wash my face and pull myself together but he wouldn’t let me, every time I tried to shake it off he’d stop me, hug me and tell me to let it all out. I apologized that we didn’t get to complete the scene, that I didn’t even get him off and he told me forcibly to shut up. He explained that this meant more to him; it meant so much that I was finally letting him into my mind and my heart. This was true submission; this was letting him see me at my most vulnerable and trusting him with my tears.
I think this is when I first realized that I loved him. We had already been dating for 10months but that was an area I avoided. I cared for him a ton and I knew he was beginning to love me but I couldn’t let go of my complete emotion control enough to admit it to myself. This moment helped me realize what a treasure I had, I had and still have the most sadistic bastard and the most sensitive loving guy all in one. He knew exactly what I needed right then, there is such a thing as too much control over yourself. It was time to admit to myself that my feelings for him had gone way beyond yummy kinky sex.
I thrive and get turned on by physical vulnerability but being emotionally vulnerable is still the most difficult thing in our relationship for me. I am prone to keep feelings and thoughts to myself and only verbalize things that are 100% rational. A couple weeks ago he read to me at my insistence from a journal he’d kept many years ago. I loved hearing about the kinky sex scenes but I most loved the insights into his mind, his ramblings on love, his lonely days, his dreams for the future. I realized that when I write it is so much easier to talk about hot kinky sex but that when I read others writing it are their vulnerable moments, their openness that draws me in. I am going to try and integrate more of that rawness into my online writing. Don’t worry; it wouldn’t be me if there weren’t still lots of hot, kinky sex stories!! I have decided that I need to learn to be more vulnerable with him and what better way to practice then with an online blog read only by total strangers to me. Am I making you feel like lab mice yet?
Oh yes and I will admit something else, my master doesn’t know about this blog. He knows that I write he just doesn’t know the exact format. I know he wouldn’t mind and would encourage me if he did but I am so hesitant to tell him. I don’t want it to affect how I write and I know I’d end up second guessing myself and worrying how everything sounds, all things I’d do if I knew he was reading it. It is my goal to eventually tell him and then he will have lots of fun going back and reading everything but I want to get in the routine of it first, to get comfortable with being honest anonymously before I do. Just writing this has already helped - when you put something in writing once it becomes so much easier to say it out loud. He has mentioned that he’d enjoy witting a blog with me so who knows one day this may merge into a couples blog. We will see. Until then a big thanks to all you anonymous Internet users for being my test subjects in vulnerability:)
I lost a friend early this year. We were just casual bar friends but it hit me very hard as she lived in the same town as me, was the same age and was brutally murdered after being tortured over a couple days by one of her language students who had a thing for western woman. I wrote my master a message the night it happened as I was in shock and upset and that felt natural. The next morning I instantly regretted it. I hated that I had let my emotional guards down and acted in what I thought of as a needy way. I was supposed to go to his house for the weekend but texted him to tell him I was too tired to go that weekend. I was really avoiding going when I felt weak which he knew full well. However, I did want to be with him and the combination of feeling unsafe (they didn’t catch the guy and he’d lived insanely near to me), the lack of ability to walk anywhere without journalists asking questions (in Japan you really do stand out as a western woman), being surrounded by mutual friends of hers and mine who just wanted to talk and talk about it (not my style) and longing for a good night’s sleep without the light on had me decide at last minute to go to his place after all.
I always envied girls who could put their head on their boyfriends shoulder and cry it all out. Back then I didn’t cry (things have changed) and if I was ever going to cry it would be in privacy, complete privacy. I spent so much energy that weekend trying to act normal, to seem upbeat etc. He was so good at being extra cuddly, suggesting long baths and hot tea and dragging me out for a run to de-stress. However, every time I got close to losing it I would leave the room and shut a door until I calmed down. Simply shut him out. I knew it hurt him when I would tell him "don’t hug me!" out of fear of losing it but he was trying to be respectful; and let me process in my own way. The last day though he’d had enough and asked me if I was up for a light sm session and I very hesitantly agreed, I think I knew what would happen. He gave me a spanking and I could feel myself start to lose it. I fought it and held on to control. He then tied me to the table and started flogging me. Control slipped. I started crying, silent tears hidden by my hair but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop. Giving him control physically let me lower my emotional guards. I hid it to the best of my ability but he asked me to look at him at one point and was shocked to see that I had been sobbing. I begged him not to stop, I needed this, I needed the excuse to release everything and I needed to not have control for it to happen. When you are tied you cannot close doors between you. He kept going telling me to let it all out. Eventually he untied me and I curled up at his feet with my head on his lap. At his feet with him in control it was so much easier to let go and I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed. I kept apologizing, kept wanting to wash my face and pull myself together but he wouldn’t let me, every time I tried to shake it off he’d stop me, hug me and tell me to let it all out. I apologized that we didn’t get to complete the scene, that I didn’t even get him off and he told me forcibly to shut up. He explained that this meant more to him; it meant so much that I was finally letting him into my mind and my heart. This was true submission; this was letting him see me at my most vulnerable and trusting him with my tears.
I think this is when I first realized that I loved him. We had already been dating for 10months but that was an area I avoided. I cared for him a ton and I knew he was beginning to love me but I couldn’t let go of my complete emotion control enough to admit it to myself. This moment helped me realize what a treasure I had, I had and still have the most sadistic bastard and the most sensitive loving guy all in one. He knew exactly what I needed right then, there is such a thing as too much control over yourself. It was time to admit to myself that my feelings for him had gone way beyond yummy kinky sex.
I thrive and get turned on by physical vulnerability but being emotionally vulnerable is still the most difficult thing in our relationship for me. I am prone to keep feelings and thoughts to myself and only verbalize things that are 100% rational. A couple weeks ago he read to me at my insistence from a journal he’d kept many years ago. I loved hearing about the kinky sex scenes but I most loved the insights into his mind, his ramblings on love, his lonely days, his dreams for the future. I realized that when I write it is so much easier to talk about hot kinky sex but that when I read others writing it are their vulnerable moments, their openness that draws me in. I am going to try and integrate more of that rawness into my online writing. Don’t worry; it wouldn’t be me if there weren’t still lots of hot, kinky sex stories!! I have decided that I need to learn to be more vulnerable with him and what better way to practice then with an online blog read only by total strangers to me. Am I making you feel like lab mice yet?
Oh yes and I will admit something else, my master doesn’t know about this blog. He knows that I write he just doesn’t know the exact format. I know he wouldn’t mind and would encourage me if he did but I am so hesitant to tell him. I don’t want it to affect how I write and I know I’d end up second guessing myself and worrying how everything sounds, all things I’d do if I knew he was reading it. It is my goal to eventually tell him and then he will have lots of fun going back and reading everything but I want to get in the routine of it first, to get comfortable with being honest anonymously before I do. Just writing this has already helped - when you put something in writing once it becomes so much easier to say it out loud. He has mentioned that he’d enjoy witting a blog with me so who knows one day this may merge into a couples blog. We will see. Until then a big thanks to all you anonymous Internet users for being my test subjects in vulnerability:)
Monday, December 17, 2007
I am spoiled with hot Japanese woman!
We met another couple this weekend. We had bumped into them briefly before at a happening bar and have been trying to arrange a meet forever. She is stunningly hot, with a tiny, tight frame with gorgeous tattoos. She had the perfect body to display the shibari rope corset my master did on her. He took pics of the two of us so I will be sure to post them soon!
They were a very comfortable couple to play with. She doesn’t do full swap and neither do I so there was no pressure for me to feel like i should go further with the guy. She had such joy and glee about sex. She had just bought a new strap on and loved holding and stroking her “new dick”. She also gave me my first orgasm from a strap on – I usually need it too hard and fast, but she was excellent. She loved trying out the whips on me and her boyfriend and got completely into it. I think she was way more sold on the dominating side of things, and her poor boyfriend is going to be in for it!
I always have problems getting into SM and full submissive mode in front of others. We have always played with beginners or people not into heavy SM though. I always feel the need to communicate and answer their questions that it doesn’t hurt so much; show I’m enjoying it etc. When it’s just me and my master he can go fully sadistic and not scare anyone with his eyes (there is something that comes out in them when he’s in sadistic mode) and I can end up a sobbing mess and not have to try and explain exactly why I’m ok and that this is a good thing for me. Maybe if we were with experienced people who understood not to interrupt our headspaces it would be different, or maybe I just find it too personal of a thing to share with others.
I am however very proud of myself as I managed to show such happiness from the flogging that the guy hit a girl for the first time in his life. He seemed in shock about this after as we were discussing the night and I think I reassured him when I responded with a big thank you. Im terrible at corrupting guys into hitting me!
The guy at one point stated that he had never had two girls suck his cock and it was one of his biggest fantasies. I have never given another guy a blow job since I’ve been with my master even though he has always left that decision to me. I wanted to do it as it gives me a huge turn on to fulfill people’s fantasies. Part of my sexual submissive side is being able to provide such things. I asked my master at the time and he said it was ok but I didn’t really feel convinced. It ended up feeling weird and I basically just gave it a few licks while she sucked. I don’t think my master was really enjoying it and even though he was ok with it knowing it wasn’t turning him on made it turn me off as well. I know that he is not as into watching me with others as I am with watching him. I am fine with that as I love girls and so when we find female playmates it’s all smooth. I do however find it awkward when he is sharing another guy’s girl and I am not reciprocating with her guy. We always discuss everyone’s expectations beforehand but I still am always worrying that someone is feeling left out so that it’s harder for me to relax and enjoy. I’m glad for the set up as generally of the couples we have me the girls have been much, much hotter than their guy and I don’t actually feel attracted to him but my submissive side makes me feel guilty way to easily!
We will definitely be seeing them again – any girl who is as hot as her and can give me an orgasm with a strap on is a keeper in my books:)
They were a very comfortable couple to play with. She doesn’t do full swap and neither do I so there was no pressure for me to feel like i should go further with the guy. She had such joy and glee about sex. She had just bought a new strap on and loved holding and stroking her “new dick”. She also gave me my first orgasm from a strap on – I usually need it too hard and fast, but she was excellent. She loved trying out the whips on me and her boyfriend and got completely into it. I think she was way more sold on the dominating side of things, and her poor boyfriend is going to be in for it!
I always have problems getting into SM and full submissive mode in front of others. We have always played with beginners or people not into heavy SM though. I always feel the need to communicate and answer their questions that it doesn’t hurt so much; show I’m enjoying it etc. When it’s just me and my master he can go fully sadistic and not scare anyone with his eyes (there is something that comes out in them when he’s in sadistic mode) and I can end up a sobbing mess and not have to try and explain exactly why I’m ok and that this is a good thing for me. Maybe if we were with experienced people who understood not to interrupt our headspaces it would be different, or maybe I just find it too personal of a thing to share with others.
I am however very proud of myself as I managed to show such happiness from the flogging that the guy hit a girl for the first time in his life. He seemed in shock about this after as we were discussing the night and I think I reassured him when I responded with a big thank you. Im terrible at corrupting guys into hitting me!
The guy at one point stated that he had never had two girls suck his cock and it was one of his biggest fantasies. I have never given another guy a blow job since I’ve been with my master even though he has always left that decision to me. I wanted to do it as it gives me a huge turn on to fulfill people’s fantasies. Part of my sexual submissive side is being able to provide such things. I asked my master at the time and he said it was ok but I didn’t really feel convinced. It ended up feeling weird and I basically just gave it a few licks while she sucked. I don’t think my master was really enjoying it and even though he was ok with it knowing it wasn’t turning him on made it turn me off as well. I know that he is not as into watching me with others as I am with watching him. I am fine with that as I love girls and so when we find female playmates it’s all smooth. I do however find it awkward when he is sharing another guy’s girl and I am not reciprocating with her guy. We always discuss everyone’s expectations beforehand but I still am always worrying that someone is feeling left out so that it’s harder for me to relax and enjoy. I’m glad for the set up as generally of the couples we have me the girls have been much, much hotter than their guy and I don’t actually feel attracted to him but my submissive side makes me feel guilty way to easily!
We will definitely be seeing them again – any girl who is as hot as her and can give me an orgasm with a strap on is a keeper in my books:)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Anticipation
So finally my follow up on the electric fly swatter my sadistic friend gave me.
I have been tied up, clothes pinned, whipped and paddled. Just another ordinary day. But then it appears. That pink, mini, innocent-looking racket. The electric fly swatter. That one that I have feared ever since my sadistic friend gifted it to me. Yes, I admit it, I fear this thing - when I finally gathered my nerve to test it on my finger on first receiving it hurt like hell. I have been dreading this ever since, he kept telling me it was coming, but there was still that little bit of hope that he would forget. He is smiling as he approaches me. I am starting to breath heavy now; did I mention that this thing hurts? He tells me to present my ass. Uh, uh no way. I don't think I can move towards that thing of my own free will. I made pleading noises, I beg him with my eyes, I move my ass in the opposite direction. Maybe this isn’t perfect obedience but I think I am doing well, I am managing to keep just under control my desire to see if I can make a break for a different room, a room with a lock.
"NOW!"
He has that look, that look that makes me jump to compliance. Now it’s a choice, face him later or face the racket now. I know later will still include the racket. Why can’t I be tied up for this? I move into position, slowly and reluctantly but I do it. He is enjoying this. He raises the racket and teases me with it, running it over my body without pressing the button. I am tense and jumping at every contact. I know its coming; my hands are clenched in anticipation. Now I just want it to be over with. Then it comes.
ZAP!
He has whacked it right against my ass.
and I start to laugh.
ZAP!
I continue to laugh. It doesn't hurt, it feels weird but it doesn't hurt. I am laughing from sheer relief, from my own foolishness.
Zap!
Yep this doesn't even rank compared to the canes we have. I am enjoying how stupid I feel. This is nothing; I have been so worked up for this slightly painful, tingly zap. Apparently fingers are way more sensitive than an ass. Figures. Guess there is a lot of truth that anticipation of pain is often worse than the reality of it.
I have been tied up, clothes pinned, whipped and paddled. Just another ordinary day. But then it appears. That pink, mini, innocent-looking racket. The electric fly swatter. That one that I have feared ever since my sadistic friend gifted it to me. Yes, I admit it, I fear this thing - when I finally gathered my nerve to test it on my finger on first receiving it hurt like hell. I have been dreading this ever since, he kept telling me it was coming, but there was still that little bit of hope that he would forget. He is smiling as he approaches me. I am starting to breath heavy now; did I mention that this thing hurts? He tells me to present my ass. Uh, uh no way. I don't think I can move towards that thing of my own free will. I made pleading noises, I beg him with my eyes, I move my ass in the opposite direction. Maybe this isn’t perfect obedience but I think I am doing well, I am managing to keep just under control my desire to see if I can make a break for a different room, a room with a lock.
"NOW!"
He has that look, that look that makes me jump to compliance. Now it’s a choice, face him later or face the racket now. I know later will still include the racket. Why can’t I be tied up for this? I move into position, slowly and reluctantly but I do it. He is enjoying this. He raises the racket and teases me with it, running it over my body without pressing the button. I am tense and jumping at every contact. I know its coming; my hands are clenched in anticipation. Now I just want it to be over with. Then it comes.
ZAP!
He has whacked it right against my ass.
and I start to laugh.
ZAP!
I continue to laugh. It doesn't hurt, it feels weird but it doesn't hurt. I am laughing from sheer relief, from my own foolishness.
Zap!
Yep this doesn't even rank compared to the canes we have. I am enjoying how stupid I feel. This is nothing; I have been so worked up for this slightly painful, tingly zap. Apparently fingers are way more sensitive than an ass. Figures. Guess there is a lot of truth that anticipation of pain is often worse than the reality of it.
Well the toy is not a complete write off. He has decided that zapping my finger tips with it would be an excellent punishment tool. I am feeling like a good girl now, a very good girl, an exceptionally good girl...
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Fantasy in a World of Realism
I have a shameful secret to admit to. Yes even I have secrets I am somewhat ashamed of . All the dirty little things I write onto my blog I write at work. I sit here at my junior high school in Japan, professionally at my desk in my conservative teaching attire and write on google docs all the dirty sex things I have been doing. It works, I look busy during the few hours a day I have absolutely nothing to do and it definitely makes my time go faster. I sit here at work, getting my pussy wet, using 8pt ink and making sure I have legitimate pages ready to access just in case the few English speakers at the school take a look at my screen and write all sorts of nasty things. So, bad teacher, bad - now someone take my ruler to me, pretty please?
Well sitting there at work I don't just write things to post on my blog. I also send emails to my master, general day to day stuff (I only live with him half the time due to job distance) and of course dirty fantasies to get him going. Just to show those of you who think of him as cruel and sadistic (just those words get me wet) lets just say my mind can play ball too. Here is the last fantasy I sent him, which he has eagerly decided some form of will be adopted this next weekend. I think masochists thinking of ways to be tortured have some of the most sadistic minds out there, something he loves to take advantage of and thus constantly asks for more outpourings of my dirty mind.
=====================
You are smiling at me, that smile that says “I am going to hurt you so bad, and I am going to love every second of it”. That smile that gets me instantly wet but also starts my heart beating with that delicious tinge of fear. You gather the ropes and start binding me up, as you put the ropes on me restricting my freedom you start whispering in my ear exactly the cruelty you have planned. You outline just how much pain I am in for, telling me ever cruel detail of your plan, making my previous tinge of fear just seem like common sense. I am hogtied painfully, roped and helpless the blindfold pulled over my eyes and gag shoved into my mouth just to reinforce how helpless I am. You run your hands over my body as I squirm beneath you, you tell me not to worry if it’s uncomfortable as what comes after will be worse, much worse. Before you leave you jam your fingers in my pussy, just enough times to get me whining for more, but much too short to get me off. You leave, your parting gift a few stinging blows to the ass.
I am left there alone, and the only thing I am able to do is run your words over and over through my head. It is a brutal plan. You whispered in my ear that you were going to place 50 clothespins all over my most sensitive bits. I gasped at that, 20 hurt more than enough before. Then you added that they would all be the metal ones. This made me moan, those are so painful. You smiled at my distress as you were only half finished with your plan. You told me that I can get them off anytime I want but I have to earn it. For each clothespin I want off I have to beg for a hard cane stroke, a welt leaving stroke, the ones that take awhile to recover from. I do the math, 50 clothespins, 50 strokes.
By the time you return I have worked myself up in a frenzy of anticipation. My pussy is soaked and my mind and heart are racing. You untie me roughly, not saying a word just upping my anticipation. You drag me out into the living you and growl and me to get on all fours. I obey, but it is with a ton of apprehension. You pour the bag of clothespins on the floor, the clatter eliciting an involuntary jump for me. Your last words of comfort are simply “this is going to hurt so bad”. You were not lying when you said sensitive parts, there are rows of clothespins on my inner thighs, covering my breasts and hanging from my pussy lips. I am trying so hard not to move, trying to let myself sink into the pulsating pain. This is so hard already; I don’t think I can take more. You are admiring your work, I am covered in 50 brutal metal clothespins, and I am already shaking a little bit which causes them to make a slight jingle. You bring out the black cane and trace it all over my body, causing me to flinch as you run it over the multitude of clothespins.
“Ready when you are bitch”
I swallow and breathe in deeply. I might as well get this started, the longer I wait the worse they will hurt coming off. “Please cane me master”. You do, hard. I fail miserable at holding still shaking from the blow, shaking the 50 clothespins that dig in even more painfully to me. You grab a clothespin and yank it off me letting it clatter to the ground. I am struggling to compose myself, 49 more I think? Finally the pain has passed through me and I manage to beg for another stroke. I swear this one was even harder. The small clatter from the clothespin feels like an anticlimax to the intense pain. I can’t do this; there is no way, 48 more? You smile and run your hands over the clothespins generating a gasp from me. “Don’t worry, I have all the time in the world, no rush” you say as you flop infuriatingly comfortably down on the couch.
I gather myself and focus. Somehow I drag myself through, stroke, pain, clothespin off, pain, and repeat. They start to hurt so bad coming off towards the end. You take great glee in pinching the sore areas right after release of the clothespin. This of course causes me to jump and squirm causing more pain. My ass is covered in the welts, every time you hit me now you are hitting somewhere you have at least hit once before and this quadruples the pain and you are not hitting any lighter either. I am in a world of pain, I moan and tears slip down my eyes but my pussy betrays me with its dripping wetness. The last two clothespins you conveniently leave on as you love to do are the ones on my nipples. You tell me that to get those off I will have to earn them with extra hard cane strokes. I don’t think I can do it, I have already taken more pain than ever before, but somehow my voice manages to squeak out “please cane me extra hard master.” You respond with “gladly slave” and wail on my ass. It burns it hurts, I collapse on to my knees. “Shhhh baby, one more”, you say as you pull the clothespin off eliciting new cries and moans. I am shaking, I know it’s only one more but I can’t imagine another one of those strokes, I am wondering if the last one broke the skin. It is only my pride to complete the challenge that makes me choke out the final request. It comes, brutally and I collapse shaking and trying to calm my breathing, you yank the last clothespin off and pull me to you. I can tell you are proud of me for completing it and your soft touch feels so good after the pain.
It is short-lived though. You have me kneel in front of me. You are suddenly frowning and I am confused why. You pick up two clothespins and tell me “I think your nipples looked so much prettier with these on”. I shake my head wildly, no please no. I am having no problem begging now; I know the last thing I want back on my nipples are those freaking clothespins. “Too bad bitch” you say “these are my nipples and I like them best with clothespins”. I scream and gasp as you put them on; the pain is so intense on the already tortured nipples. My pussy gushes with the hotness of how unfair it is- I already made it through the challenge!
Soon I am not thinking anything anymore. You shove me back on all fours and begin to fuck me hard. I forget quickly about the pain as now the only thing I care about is reaching orgasm. You tease me, making sure I really want it before you let me fall over. I collapse; it’s one of those orgasms only you get me to. You stand over me while I lie on the floor a dishevelled, thoroughly fucked mess. You jerk off as you watch me recover, smiling. “Take them off” I am confused for a minute, trying to bring your words into focus. “Take off the clothespins, bitch”. Oh god no, they are going to hurt so bad, but the look in your eye makes me reach for them. I grab one in each hand; I want this over with fast. You lock your eyes with me and I grip them and pull them off screaming out. My pain pushes you over to climax and your cum splashes across my face as the last of my scream dies out. I feel it all over my face as I close my eyes and sink back away into the post orgasm realm.
=========================================
Well sitting there at work I don't just write things to post on my blog. I also send emails to my master, general day to day stuff (I only live with him half the time due to job distance) and of course dirty fantasies to get him going. Just to show those of you who think of him as cruel and sadistic (just those words get me wet) lets just say my mind can play ball too. Here is the last fantasy I sent him, which he has eagerly decided some form of will be adopted this next weekend. I think masochists thinking of ways to be tortured have some of the most sadistic minds out there, something he loves to take advantage of and thus constantly asks for more outpourings of my dirty mind.
=====================
You are smiling at me, that smile that says “I am going to hurt you so bad, and I am going to love every second of it”. That smile that gets me instantly wet but also starts my heart beating with that delicious tinge of fear. You gather the ropes and start binding me up, as you put the ropes on me restricting my freedom you start whispering in my ear exactly the cruelty you have planned. You outline just how much pain I am in for, telling me ever cruel detail of your plan, making my previous tinge of fear just seem like common sense. I am hogtied painfully, roped and helpless the blindfold pulled over my eyes and gag shoved into my mouth just to reinforce how helpless I am. You run your hands over my body as I squirm beneath you, you tell me not to worry if it’s uncomfortable as what comes after will be worse, much worse. Before you leave you jam your fingers in my pussy, just enough times to get me whining for more, but much too short to get me off. You leave, your parting gift a few stinging blows to the ass.
I am left there alone, and the only thing I am able to do is run your words over and over through my head. It is a brutal plan. You whispered in my ear that you were going to place 50 clothespins all over my most sensitive bits. I gasped at that, 20 hurt more than enough before. Then you added that they would all be the metal ones. This made me moan, those are so painful. You smiled at my distress as you were only half finished with your plan. You told me that I can get them off anytime I want but I have to earn it. For each clothespin I want off I have to beg for a hard cane stroke, a welt leaving stroke, the ones that take awhile to recover from. I do the math, 50 clothespins, 50 strokes.
By the time you return I have worked myself up in a frenzy of anticipation. My pussy is soaked and my mind and heart are racing. You untie me roughly, not saying a word just upping my anticipation. You drag me out into the living you and growl and me to get on all fours. I obey, but it is with a ton of apprehension. You pour the bag of clothespins on the floor, the clatter eliciting an involuntary jump for me. Your last words of comfort are simply “this is going to hurt so bad”. You were not lying when you said sensitive parts, there are rows of clothespins on my inner thighs, covering my breasts and hanging from my pussy lips. I am trying so hard not to move, trying to let myself sink into the pulsating pain. This is so hard already; I don’t think I can take more. You are admiring your work, I am covered in 50 brutal metal clothespins, and I am already shaking a little bit which causes them to make a slight jingle. You bring out the black cane and trace it all over my body, causing me to flinch as you run it over the multitude of clothespins.
“Ready when you are bitch”
I swallow and breathe in deeply. I might as well get this started, the longer I wait the worse they will hurt coming off. “Please cane me master”. You do, hard. I fail miserable at holding still shaking from the blow, shaking the 50 clothespins that dig in even more painfully to me. You grab a clothespin and yank it off me letting it clatter to the ground. I am struggling to compose myself, 49 more I think? Finally the pain has passed through me and I manage to beg for another stroke. I swear this one was even harder. The small clatter from the clothespin feels like an anticlimax to the intense pain. I can’t do this; there is no way, 48 more? You smile and run your hands over the clothespins generating a gasp from me. “Don’t worry, I have all the time in the world, no rush” you say as you flop infuriatingly comfortably down on the couch.
I gather myself and focus. Somehow I drag myself through, stroke, pain, clothespin off, pain, and repeat. They start to hurt so bad coming off towards the end. You take great glee in pinching the sore areas right after release of the clothespin. This of course causes me to jump and squirm causing more pain. My ass is covered in the welts, every time you hit me now you are hitting somewhere you have at least hit once before and this quadruples the pain and you are not hitting any lighter either. I am in a world of pain, I moan and tears slip down my eyes but my pussy betrays me with its dripping wetness. The last two clothespins you conveniently leave on as you love to do are the ones on my nipples. You tell me that to get those off I will have to earn them with extra hard cane strokes. I don’t think I can do it, I have already taken more pain than ever before, but somehow my voice manages to squeak out “please cane me extra hard master.” You respond with “gladly slave” and wail on my ass. It burns it hurts, I collapse on to my knees. “Shhhh baby, one more”, you say as you pull the clothespin off eliciting new cries and moans. I am shaking, I know it’s only one more but I can’t imagine another one of those strokes, I am wondering if the last one broke the skin. It is only my pride to complete the challenge that makes me choke out the final request. It comes, brutally and I collapse shaking and trying to calm my breathing, you yank the last clothespin off and pull me to you. I can tell you are proud of me for completing it and your soft touch feels so good after the pain.
It is short-lived though. You have me kneel in front of me. You are suddenly frowning and I am confused why. You pick up two clothespins and tell me “I think your nipples looked so much prettier with these on”. I shake my head wildly, no please no. I am having no problem begging now; I know the last thing I want back on my nipples are those freaking clothespins. “Too bad bitch” you say “these are my nipples and I like them best with clothespins”. I scream and gasp as you put them on; the pain is so intense on the already tortured nipples. My pussy gushes with the hotness of how unfair it is- I already made it through the challenge!
Soon I am not thinking anything anymore. You shove me back on all fours and begin to fuck me hard. I forget quickly about the pain as now the only thing I care about is reaching orgasm. You tease me, making sure I really want it before you let me fall over. I collapse; it’s one of those orgasms only you get me to. You stand over me while I lie on the floor a dishevelled, thoroughly fucked mess. You jerk off as you watch me recover, smiling. “Take them off” I am confused for a minute, trying to bring your words into focus. “Take off the clothespins, bitch”. Oh god no, they are going to hurt so bad, but the look in your eye makes me reach for them. I grab one in each hand; I want this over with fast. You lock your eyes with me and I grip them and pull them off screaming out. My pain pushes you over to climax and your cum splashes across my face as the last of my scream dies out. I feel it all over my face as I close my eyes and sink back away into the post orgasm realm.
=========================================
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
This didn't happen in my Fantasies...
Ok I can finally admit it. I am a pain loving slut. Pain gets me wetter, hornier and more turned on then anything else. I get hot from both the sensations themselves and the emotional links to being out of control, humiliated, under duress, suffering, and being afraid. I crave controlled pain, I want it, I need it, I want it hard, I want more of it, I want to be broken down, I want to cry, and I want to want it to stop. Hurt me, please. Make me suffer, please. Deny me, tie me, whip me, tease me, spank me, cane me, flog me, humiliate me, choke me, slap me, clamp me...please. When it comes to pain I am selfish and greedy. I want it, I enjoy it, its a reward, its a pleasure. Please make me hurt.
Wow, now that only took me years to admit. Just wanted to go the whole mile and admit it to all who stop to read it. When I first entered my relationship with my master I entered with a bag load of yummy fantasies that I had rubbed off to over the years. In those fantasies, which I wrote and scripted I had 0 control. Id be kidnapped, or rapped, or blackmailed...but poor, poor me had to experience exactly the kind of pain I wanted, in exactly the situation I wanted, for as long as I wanted. Poor victim me! I didn't want the pain (oh lets get the bad guy to tie me up and whip me next) I didn't want the humiliation (I furiously masturbate as I decide the bad guy slaps me in the face and forces me to suck his cock). It was all (oh so deliciously) out of my control.
So remove my fingers from my pussy and enter reality. I have a perfectly wholesome, take home to your parents type, treat me well sort of guy. He is also willing to be a perfectly horrendous bastard and take me to my knees in pain and humiliation. Perfect. Just one small problem. In the non consensual fantasies I had scripted, written and directed I was never asked to communicate. I just got hurt and mistreated with 0 control, well at least that's how I wrote it to play out. They read something like this.
M. I am going to fuck you up so bad bitch,.
s. fuck you, you bastard let me go.
M. (beats the shit out of me)
s. (curses and screams and begs)
Now along came reality and things didn't quite go that way. Sure I still got beaten but he actually wanted input, wanted into my head, wanted me to make choices. I freaked out, choices and opinions felt way too much like control so I evaded. Dramatized examples:
M. Do you want more bitch?
s. I don't know.
M. How many strokes should I give you?
s. As many as you want Master.
M. What should I hurt you with?
s. Whatever you want Master.
M. Did you enjoy yourself?
s. Yes Master.
M. What did you enjoy?
s. All of it
M. What was your favorite.
s.I don't know, I liked all of it
I am privy to the knowledge that this style of interaction was infuriating. I was ordered to write a journal about my fantasies. I wrote nice, pretty fantasies based in reality with him as the star. I was ordered to answer the questions, I obeyed with trite, monosyllabic, non enlightening responses. This all would of been a bigger problem if my non verbal communication wasn't excellent. Also, massive orgasms, sped up breathing and huge smiles when it was done answered many of his questions for me.
Things have changed. Ive grown comfortable with him, Ive grown up. Ive learned through my one serious punishment that when I don't want pain it doesn't turn me on. Ive learned that communication really makes things better. Ive also learned that wanting pain and begging for it puts him in even more control then before. He knows what I like, what I want, and its all in his hands whether or not I get it. He has said before that he gets off on controlling both my pain and my pleasure. If I don't tell him which is which then really I am controlling things more then if I tell him exactly what triggers everything pushes. EUREAKA! In reality being tortured by a bad man just isn't hot. Being lead blindfolded down a path of pain and pleasure by a guy that loves you and knows just how to mess with you most- now that's hot.
So things have changed. My self acceptance as a masochist has opened up many new ways for him to torture me. some examples.
s. Please Master, would you hurt me just a little more before I leave?
M. We will see bitch, I'm kinda tired.
M. How many strokes can you take?
s. maybe 20 master?
M. good, lets double it.
s. Master I love it when you shove your cock down your throat and cut off my air.
M. It feels good?
s. No, it feels humiliating and makes me panic that I cant breath. Its so hard not to choke and gag and it makes my throat burn from the use and later my voice is all raspy.
M. and you like it.
s. Yes master.
(files info away, now he can humiliate me by reminding me I like it, reward me with lots of it when he wants to, tease me by withholding his cock and if he wants to punish me he knows that that activity is out.)
So this pain slut has finally figured out how to rectify non consensual fantasies with reality. knowledge is power, his power.
Wow, now that only took me years to admit. Just wanted to go the whole mile and admit it to all who stop to read it. When I first entered my relationship with my master I entered with a bag load of yummy fantasies that I had rubbed off to over the years. In those fantasies, which I wrote and scripted I had 0 control. Id be kidnapped, or rapped, or blackmailed...but poor, poor me had to experience exactly the kind of pain I wanted, in exactly the situation I wanted, for as long as I wanted. Poor victim me! I didn't want the pain (oh lets get the bad guy to tie me up and whip me next) I didn't want the humiliation (I furiously masturbate as I decide the bad guy slaps me in the face and forces me to suck his cock). It was all (oh so deliciously) out of my control.
So remove my fingers from my pussy and enter reality. I have a perfectly wholesome, take home to your parents type, treat me well sort of guy. He is also willing to be a perfectly horrendous bastard and take me to my knees in pain and humiliation. Perfect. Just one small problem. In the non consensual fantasies I had scripted, written and directed I was never asked to communicate. I just got hurt and mistreated with 0 control, well at least that's how I wrote it to play out. They read something like this.
M. I am going to fuck you up so bad bitch,.
s. fuck you, you bastard let me go.
M. (beats the shit out of me)
s. (curses and screams and begs)
Now along came reality and things didn't quite go that way. Sure I still got beaten but he actually wanted input, wanted into my head, wanted me to make choices. I freaked out, choices and opinions felt way too much like control so I evaded. Dramatized examples:
M. Do you want more bitch?
s. I don't know.
M. How many strokes should I give you?
s. As many as you want Master.
M. What should I hurt you with?
s. Whatever you want Master.
M. Did you enjoy yourself?
s. Yes Master.
M. What did you enjoy?
s. All of it
M. What was your favorite.
s.I don't know, I liked all of it
I am privy to the knowledge that this style of interaction was infuriating. I was ordered to write a journal about my fantasies. I wrote nice, pretty fantasies based in reality with him as the star. I was ordered to answer the questions, I obeyed with trite, monosyllabic, non enlightening responses. This all would of been a bigger problem if my non verbal communication wasn't excellent. Also, massive orgasms, sped up breathing and huge smiles when it was done answered many of his questions for me.
Things have changed. Ive grown comfortable with him, Ive grown up. Ive learned through my one serious punishment that when I don't want pain it doesn't turn me on. Ive learned that communication really makes things better. Ive also learned that wanting pain and begging for it puts him in even more control then before. He knows what I like, what I want, and its all in his hands whether or not I get it. He has said before that he gets off on controlling both my pain and my pleasure. If I don't tell him which is which then really I am controlling things more then if I tell him exactly what triggers everything pushes. EUREAKA! In reality being tortured by a bad man just isn't hot. Being lead blindfolded down a path of pain and pleasure by a guy that loves you and knows just how to mess with you most- now that's hot.
So things have changed. My self acceptance as a masochist has opened up many new ways for him to torture me. some examples.
s. Please Master, would you hurt me just a little more before I leave?
M. We will see bitch, I'm kinda tired.
M. How many strokes can you take?
s. maybe 20 master?
M. good, lets double it.
s. Master I love it when you shove your cock down your throat and cut off my air.
M. It feels good?
s. No, it feels humiliating and makes me panic that I cant breath. Its so hard not to choke and gag and it makes my throat burn from the use and later my voice is all raspy.
M. and you like it.
s. Yes master.
(files info away, now he can humiliate me by reminding me I like it, reward me with lots of it when he wants to, tease me by withholding his cock and if he wants to punish me he knows that that activity is out.)
So this pain slut has finally figured out how to rectify non consensual fantasies with reality. knowledge is power, his power.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
