Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Unfettered, Part II

This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

I stretch languidly, rolling to my back from my side, my arms reaching above my head. Obviously, I fell asleep. Huh. I didn't realize I was that tired. I crack a huge yawn, feeling my jaw pop, and then I hear Master chuckling beside me.

"Have a nice nap, pet?" he asks. I roll back to my side, facing him, and lean my forehead against his chest. His arm comes around me, and I feel his hand (so warm, so warm) stroking my back in long, slow slides. I love it when he does that. I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and allow myself to melt into him.

Several long minutes pass, during which Master indulges me by allowing me to rest against him while he continues to stroke my back. But at last, Master nudges my shoulder, pressing me onto my back once again. I shift to a comfortable position, and look up to catch his eyes. While holding my gaze, he reaches across my chest and grasps my right nipple between his fingers. He squeezes it, firmly, then rolls it in his fingers. My back arches and I suck in a deep breath. Damn, that feels far more good than it should. His gaze is intense, not letting me go, and he pinches my nipple again, causing me to arch up once again. My breath hisses between my teeth and my eyelids flutter, as I fight to keep them open.

Master shifts his position a little; his hand trails down my stomach and he plunges his fingers into my pussy at the same moment his mouth closes over my left nipple. Had he not been leaning over me, I think I might have arched clear off the bed. Holy hell. His fingers in my pussy are rough, on the very edge of painful as he finger-fucks me, and he alternately nips and then licks my nipple. I let my legs fall farther open, hoping to better accept his pounding digits, but my right hand is fisted in the quilt and I'm having a hard time not tensing against the assault on my tender flesh. God, am I ever going to be sore later.

He bites me, and it hurts; I moan, but it isn't a happy sound, there's definitely pain laced in it. I turn my head away and bite my lip.

"You are just soaking," he says, and I can admit to that; God knows I can feel the evidence coating his fingers and dripping between my thighs, but I do not actually enjoy pain, and this is too close to that for me. I give another muffled moan, and then I feel him slowly pulling his fingers out of me. And that is uncomfortable, too, but I'm relieved, and I turn my head back and lie there, panting, waiting, to see what he'll come up with next.

He moves off the bed and rummages through the duffel back yet again, then comes back with - wait, what is that? I can't quite tell - oh, okay, now I see: a small black chain, a metallic clinking sound. He's pulled the clover clamps out. I close my eyes briefly and swallow. Yeah, I'm nott he biggest fan of these things.

Master climbs back on the bed and leans over me again. His mouth on my breast is gentle now, slow, careful, and his tongue laves over the peak. I whimper, and this time it really is because it feels so good. A tiny thrill of desire shivers through me, and I feel my nipple hardening, pebbling on his tongue. He pulls away, and positions the clamp over the nipple, allowing the clamp to slowly close over it. I wince and whimper as the tiny teeth dig into  my tender flesh. Damn, damn, that hurts. Master sets the other clamp as well, then tugs the chain to test it. Goddamn! I whimper again, more loudly. I don't tolerate these things very well, and already I'm fervently wishing they were being removed.

And oh, lucky me, he has a second set of clamps. He winds the chains together, then attaches the clamps to my pussy lips, where I swear they dig deep furrows in my skin. Ow, ow. He says the chains and clamps look nice; I maintain (in the privacy of my head) that they are simply evil. He tugs at the entwined chains, causing all four clamps to bite harder, and I moan loudly at the flare of pain. Now, the true evil of these things is, when they are twisted together like this, any move I make causes the chains to tug and the clamps to bite, so basically, I'm being treated to new flashes of pain almost constantly.

Master's fingers begin questing in his pussy again, bumping the clamps where they are attached, and every little brush against them makes them shift, which again, makes them hurt. He rubs at my clit and slides a finger inside me, and now I am caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the pain of the clamps. When my body arches or bucks or shifts, the chains tighten and the clamps bite, and it's a tossup as to which sensation is prevalent at any one time.

Eventually, though, my body gives in, and I cum around his fingers. Yes, the climax feels good, but immediately my body also arches involuntarily, and the wave of pleasure is instantly speared and deflated by the clamps as they bite me. I give a sob, because this really is not fun anymore, and these things Fucking Hurt Already.

Master, I think, senses that I'm reaching the end of my tolerance, and he pulls his fingers free and holds them to my lips. I open my mouth and suck his fingers clean, and then - thank you, thank you - he removes each clamp. I can't help gasping and whimpering and outright groaning and flinching as each clamp comes free, because they hurt, again, coming off, but shortly I am blessedly clamp-free, and I can finally start to relax. My nipples are so, so sore, I really just want to cross my arms over my chest and curl into a ball to protect them. I feel wrung out, honestly.

Master sits with his back to the head board, and I scoot around so I can lie my head on his knee. He pets my head, carding his fingers through my hair, which I find soothing.

"Good girl," he says. "You did well."

And I, with my sore nipples and aching pussy, smile against his leg. "Thank you, Master," I say.



Sunday, March 22, 2015


This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

Master has arranged some time away for us, a chance to focus solely on each other and leave everything else behind for a bit. It's been a while since we've had an opportunity like this, so I am quite excited about it. I'm also a bit nervous, as this promises to be an intense experience; I've been told that he has much planned for me.

I'll be honest - we have just emerged from a bit of a rough patch, and while I feel more settled and sure of my choices, I also have some lingering, niggling fears in the back of my mind. What if he asks something of me I cannot do? What if I am inadequate to the tasks he sets before me? What will happen if I fail?

That's the biggest fear I have. I'm not perfect; I'm flawed and prone to doubts and unsure of myself and sometimes, I don't trust myself - or him - enough. Still, I can look back to the beginning of my journey, and I can see how far I've come, and what things I accept and comply with and revel in, when just a couple years ago they were foreign and uncomfortable. 

But for now, I'm determined to put all that aside, and do my best to obey and please my Master.

The place he has chosen takes my breath away when I first see it: a small house tucked at the base of a verdant hill, far from its neighbors and seeming to blend in with the surrounding trees. The drive to the house is lined with - are you ready? - the cliched white picket fence, and widens to a half-circle as it approaches the house.

I step out of the car and take in the covered front porch, the faded green shutters, the riot of flowers lining the front of the house. It's utterly charming, and my lips curve up in a genuinely delighted smile. I ascend the steps and approach the front door; it's painted the same green as the shutters, also slightly faded, with a painted wooden sign which proclaims, "WeLcoMe" in bright white letters. The door opens into a small foyer. To the left I see the living room; to the right, a sunny kitchen. Master is an excellent cook, and if I'm lucky, he might treat me to a meal or two. 

I walk through the kitchen and find, at the back, a staircase to the upper story. The kitchen leads me back into the living room, but other than a quick glance through the room, I ignore it. Instead I head upstairs, finding a smallish bedroom and a study, a decent-sized bathroom with - oh, this is awesome! - a real claw-foot tub. I can already imagine myself soaking in it. Mmm. I pass the bathroom into the last room, a larger bedroom with a beautiful oaken four-poster bed. I can't help touching one of the the skillfully carved bedposts, running my fingers over the detailed renderings of wheat sheaves and corn stalks. My imagination runs away with me, then, and I'm daydreaming about being bound to that bed.

Oh, I certainly hope I will be.

A noise startles me, and I spin around to see Master watching me with a bemused smile on his face. I feel self-conscious and silly, but he's not making fun of me. I have a sneaking suspiscion that he knows exactly what thoughts have been flitting through my mind, and, dare I say it, I think he approves.

He approaches me, almost stalking me, and I feel a thrill of anticipation run through me. The game has begun, and I am almost quivering already. He stops right next to me, and I have to tip my head back to see his face properly. In the quiet which hangs between us, I'm aware that my heart is beating too fast, and my breathing is too quick. I lick my lips.

He reaches out and tangles his fingers in my hair (which I keep short, at his request) and pulls my head back just a bit further. "Hello, pet," he says.

"Hello, Master," I reply, and my voice sounds breathy in my ears. He smiles, a genuine smile, and bends his head. When his breath washes over my ear, I close my eyes and shiver. His hand leaves my hair and slides down to grasp my neck, his fingers spanning my throat and squeezing just a hair, forcing my head to stay back. God, I love it when he does that. He murmurs into my ear.

"And is my whore ready to serve her Master?" 

My breath catches in my throat, and I shiver again. Honest to God, all he's done is grab my throat and whisper in my ear, and my knees are already threatening to buckle. I feel a flame of desire sweep through my body, need beginning to burn between my legs. "Yes, Master," I manage to whisper, but it's much harder than it ought to be.

"Position I," he commands, stepping away from me. I hurry to strip out of my clothes, then drop to my knees before him, bending my head and laying my hands palms-up on my knees. I'm very grateful there's an area rug, as it provides some protection from the wood floors. It's not a very thick rug, though, so the floor still feels hard and unforgiving under my bent legs. I wait, as still as I can, and the moment stretches and stretches as he contemplates my bent form.

Then I feel his hand touch my head, sliding down my face and gently tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "I think it would be a very good idea for you to suck my cock, " he says. "Don't you agree, whore?"

"Oh, yes, Master, indeed," I say, and we both reach to remove his clothing. He pulls his shirt over his head, leaving most of the buttons fastened, then toes off his shoes before stepping out of his pants and boxers. I sit up on my knees, stretching the already-tired muscles, and run my hands up his legs before leaning forward and capturing his cock with my mouth. He's not yet hard, so I can take all of him, down to the root, and suckle him on my tongue. His scent fills my nose, so I breathe shallowly, acclimating myself to the musky scent. It's like I have to relearn his unique smell all over again, every time. Soon enough, I can feel his shaft swelling in my mouth, growing on my tongue, and I start to slowly bob my head, pulling him in and letting him slide back out, the warmth and wetness of my tongue bathing his cock with every glide. 

I let my left palm rest on his leg, lightly bracing myself, while my right hand cups his balls, gently kneading them in my palm. I hear his intake of breath and smile to myself, sucking him harder, sometimes swirling my tongue around the head of his cock, sometimes pressing him to the back of my throat. I'm not very skilled at it, and I end up gagging myself pretty harshly, but I don't pull away. My jaw begins to ache, my knees are terribly sore, and his cock is so swollen and full that it stretches my mouth when I pull him in. I shift on my knees and grasp the base of his cock with my fingers, and I can feel his leg shake under my palm.

"That's enough, pet," he says, and I slowly, reluctantly pull away, suckling his cock as I pull my head back, and daring to lave the tip with my tongue as I let him go. I'm panting a little, as I always do - I swear, giving oral is a workout. He tells me to stand, so I do, wincing as the blood rushes to my lower legs, and I wobble as I stand.   

"Turn around," he orders, so I shakily turn to face the foot of the bed. He gently pushes me, so I walk the few steps it takes to reach the bed, then stop, and wait. My calves are prickling, still, and I shift my weight from foot to foot, hoping it eases soon. Master comes to stand beside me, and I tilt my head to look at him.

"Aren't these bedposts pretty, my whore?" he asks, and I agree - they certainly are. The foot board is rather low, and I imagine I could fairly comfortably lean forward to rest on the bed. He takes my right hand and stretches my arm out so I can touch the bedpost with him. "Wait right there," he says, and I nod my head, and he walks out the door. I can hear him descending the stairs and moving around on the first floor, then his footsteps come back up the stairs again. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder and catch sight of him coming in the door.  He's carrying a duffel bag, which he drops near the bed. He unzips the top and pulls out a long length of rope. My heart skips a beat, and I can't help the small smile that teases my lips. I adore being bound, and he knows it. 

He takes his time, not saying a word, but begins winding the soft rope around my hand, the one still flush with the bedpost. He loops the rope around my wrist, securing me to the post, but I have room to wiggle my fingers. The rope then winds up my arm in a loose spiral, around my back, under my left breast and across my right shoulder, then under my right breast and across my left shoulder. I give up trying to trace the path of the rope then, and merely stand still and quiet, allowing him to truss my breasts. It's a little uncomfortable, but not actually painful, and finally the rope loops along my left arm and ends up securing my left hand to the opposite bedpost. My arms are stretched out about as far as they can go.

He steps up behind me, his arms coming around me, and cups my breasts in his hands. I suck in a breath at the contact and lean back against my bonds to rest against him. "You should see yourself," he murmurs. "All tied up, so pretty." His thumbs are rubbing over my nipples and my knees are feeling weak again. I let my head drop back against his chest and close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his body, the raspy feel of his thumbs, the heat of his palms. He pinches my nipples, hard, and I shudder and gasp. Yes, it hurt, and no, I don't really love it, but oh man, I can feel the wetness between my legs now, and I would really, really love for him to finger my (his!) pussy. I whimper, and shift against him, and he pinches my nipples again, more sharply, and I can't help the whispered, "Ow," that escapes me. 
"Ow," he mocks me, and I flush, embarrassed, but again, he's not really making fun of me, so I force myself to relax. One of his hands strays from my breast, down my stomach, and the muscles there contract and quiver as his fingers brush over my skin, down, down, and finally (finally!) his hand cups my mound and his fingers rub against my clit. It's almost like an electric shock, with how my body convulses and the immediate blaze of need and desire that sweeps over me. I pull against my bonds and moan, it's that good, and I shift my feet further apart to better allow him access. 

But just as I do, he pulls away, and my moan this time is mixed with a whine of disappointment. No, no; please, come back! my mind protests, and I stumble back as he steps away from me entirely. I close my eyes and try to rein in my breathing; I'm gasping slightly, pulling in erratic puffs of air. I can hear him rummaging around in the duffel bag, but I don't try to see. I'm busy standing on shaky legs, my heart beating furiously in my chest.

Suddenly, without warning, a sharp sting lands across my ass, and I jump, my eyes opening wide, a protesting "Hey!" falling from my lips. I immediately realize that he's using the flogger, and in that same instant I go from "what the hell??" to "oh, this is gonna be good." Even so, I can't help tensing in anticipation of the next blow, and it falls, sharp and heavy, across my ass. I jump, again, even though I was expecting it, because damn, it stings like crazy. With my arms bound to the bedposts, I can't move much, other than to bounce on my feet a bit.    

Master changes tactics then, choosing to caress my back with the flogger instead of popping me with it. I close my eyes and moan softly, because really, the feel of the tails dragging over my skin is so, so sensual, and my insides are turning to liquid fire with every touch. He allows he flogger to trail over my shoulder and down over my bound breasts, swirling over the nipples in turn, and I buck against my bonds and groan. Oh my God, I just want to cum already, I ache so very fiercely. But he denies my release, keeping me trembling and on edge, and just as I throw my head back and sob, once, he smacks the flogger against my ass again. And I jump, again, and my desire shivers and trembles, but it's not so all-consuming as before.

Several strokes later, Master steps back to admire his handiwork. At least, I assume he does, based on his next comment - "Such pretty stripes, my pet." And even though I've done nothing to warrant praise, save stand there and complacently accept his flogging, I say, "Thank you, Master." I'm trembling, aching, my knees feeling like jelly, my shoulders aching from being stretched out for so long, my pussy weeping - I can feel drips rolling down my inner thighs. Master reaches down and plunges two fingers inside his pussy, letting loose a sigh of approval and saying, "Oh, you are SO wet, aren't you, kitten?" I can only moan, and writhe on his fingers, and hope he'll allow me release.

He steps closer, fucking me with his fingers, and his thumb presses against my clit. I cry out, and buck, and I want to cum so very badly, and he leans down and whispers in my ear - "Cum for me, pet." I pull back against my bonds and let go, and my climax shatters me, absolutely tears me apart, and if not for Master's body behind me and the ropes holding me to the bedposts, I would fall down. I can do nothing but endure, and be thankful for the ropes and Master's strength. Finally, the surge ends, and I almost collapse.

Master carefully unties the ropes around my right hand, unwinding them from my wrist, my arm, and my arm falls down and tingles, while I shake it and wiggle my fingers, helping the circulation come back. He works to unbind my breasts, and finally my other arm, and I'm suddenly so tired, yet I'm greedy enough to want more. I can see the red marks where the rope has bound me, and I'm oddly proud of them.

Master presses his hand between my shoulder blades, bending me forward, down, until I'm resting face down on the bed, my feet still on the floor, and spread, my ass in the air. I keep my arms tucked fairly close to my sides, my shoulders still sore and tired, but I'm so, so happy. I hear Master fumbing through the duffel bag again, but I don't look; I'm content to rest there, and wait, until he tells me what to do.

In a few more heartbeats, I feel his finger, slick and cool, pressing inside my ass. I try to relax, to help, but he works methodically, carefully, first one finger, then two, stretching me. It feels - weird, not painful, really, but decidedly odd. Eventually, he deems me ready, and then I feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I try to relax, even more than before, and he slowly, slowly presses and pushes and forces his way inside. It burns, and hurts, and sometimes feels like he's going sideways, but eventually he slides all the way in, and stills, letting me adjust to him. This, then, is the moment I've craved, when Master is joined with me, when this body provides him pleasure, when he can fuck his whore with abandon and let himself go. 

And he does, his cock pounding into my ass, my lower half sliding back and forth across the end of the bed with the force of his thrusts. I'm sweating, trapped beneath his body, my ass stretched and open, and I know I'm going to be sore - but I don't care, Master is using his whore, and I am reveling in it. At last, and all too soon, with a grunt and a great shuddering sigh, he climaxes, filling my ass with his cum and stretching up to bite my shoulder. I give a choked cry at the flare of pain, which then turns into a whimper as he pulls out. He rubs my ass soothingly, and tells me to get up on the bed and rest for a bit. I climb up on top of the covers and pull a pillow under my head, smiling drowsily at him when he lies beside me. And this, too, is a moment I've craved, when he is pleased with me, and he calls me his good girl.   




Thursday, March 12, 2015


This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

So Master surprised me last night by telling me that I was allowed to cum, twice, before bed. I was not expecting that, so I considered it a gift.  :)

His only caveat was that I had to cum while I was repeating my devotions. So as I lay in bed preparing for sleep, I began reciting my 7-stanza devotional, as I do every night; my right hand snaked down between my legs to play with Master's pussy and clit, again, much like I do every night. Only this time, I was going to be able to climax.

My voice began speaking, quietly, but strong, as my fingers rubbed circles on my clit, gently, slowly, even leisurely. As I progressed through my lines, my fingers picked up speed, and as I neared the end of my first recitation, I dipped my fingers inside my pussy, gathering some of my juices and spreading them all over my pussy area. I began my second recitation, my fingers stroking faster, pressing just a bit harder, my hips beginning to move in response to the coaxing of my fingers. My voice sounded a little uneven to my ears, as the words became caught in my throat and I started gasping a bit.

As I finished my third set of stanzas and began the fourth, I knew I was close. I slid my fingers inside my pussy once again, coating them really well with all the wetness there, and opened my legs wider, bending my knees so that the soles of my feet pressed together. My voice broke and skipped over the words I was speaking, my hips bucking up under the pressure of my fingers, my heart beating fast in my chest, and oh, that burn of desire, that fierce aching need to cum, a relentless march from excitement to arousal to tightening spiral; and then, finally, on the last stanza, I broke through and came, my back bowing up from the bed, a glorious trembling in my legs as I rode the wave of my climax.

My fingers slowed their dance, but didn't entirely stop, as Master had specified two orgasms. I took a minute to let my panting breaths calm, for my pounding heart to slow, for the shakiness in my legs to subside; and then I began reciting my devotions over again, while my fingers resumed their quest to make me cum again. I raised my left hand to my breast and grazed my fingernail over the nipple. That sent fresh ripples of desire sweeping through me and I tipped my head back against the mattress, enjoying the growing feeling of need spreading through my body.

My voice wavered through my devotions, reflecting the building ache of need, and broke in the middle of words as I drew in gasping breaths. I tossed my head against the mattress and bore down with my fingers, all pretense of patience evaporating under the onslaught of desire demanding satisfaction. I felt the sheets beneath me growing damp from the flood of my juices, and my fingers were slick and hot against my clit. I let out a moan in between sentences, and my hips bucked up hard. My climax swept over me then, my muscles growing taut as my back bowed, and my legs tried to close of their own accord. I shuddered, and trembled, and panted, and slowly, slowly, my muscles relaxed. I rolled over and pulled the covers over myself, closing my eyes as I waited for my breathing to calm and my heart beat to slow.

Once I had recovered, I felt very sleepy, so I snuggled into my pillow and whispered "Thank you, Master" before I fell asleep.       

Thursday, March 5, 2015


This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

Master has set certain tasks for me, to be completed on a certain day each week. For example, on Wednesdays, I am to fill Master's pussy with beads (Smart Balls, sometimes, if Master says so, but usually it's my string of 5 anal beads). I wear them a minimum of 4 hours, and I often video the removal process, which I then send to Master for his viewing pleasure. On Thursdays, I go pantyless, sending him a picture to verify. And each night when I go to bed, I recite my devotional while fingering myself, so that Master's ownership of me is on my mind when I fall asleep. Now of course, sometimes there are circumstances when I am unable to fulfill these tasks, but by and large, I do perform them as instructed.

On other days, he may ask me to do something extra, like clamp my nipples, or write his name on my body, or wear a certain set of underwear, or detail for him my reasons for exploring submission - any variety of things. And so, I do.

Now, why, you may ask, do I do these things? Why would I comply, whether the request is trivial (underwear), or inconvenient (detailed explanations), or even uncomfortable (beads, and most especially clamps)?

The simple answer is, because he is the Master, and I am the submissive.

The more complex reasons behind that answer, however, are many.

I comply because it's an act of active submission. I comply because my obedience makes him happy, and as a sub, my goal is to please my Master. I comply because it's an exercise in self-discipline. I comply because I know he likes it when I do as he asks. I comply because, on those days when I'm not feeling the subby vibe, obeying him helps me refocus. I comply because earning his praise in the form of "Good girl," and especially, "Good girl, kitten" gives me a self-satisfied, happy glow. I comply because doing so helps me feel connected to him when we can't be together in person. I comply because, at the deepest, truest level, I have chosen to do so.

I am my most authentic, submissive self when I obey my Master. I am truest to what makes me happy, when I comply with his requests. That doesn't mean he gets a free pass to make me his maid/slave/personal servant - though in certain circumstances, I have been any or all of those. It means, rather, that I offer him my obedience, my submission, myself, and in return, he offers me his care, his protection, his guidance. We both get what we need.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Trixie here, checking in.

This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

Holy crap, it's been a loooong time since I posted on this blog!

In the past 4 months a lot has changed for me, including moving into a new home. And there have been changes in my BDSM life as well; Master and I had a very rough patch where we decided to sever our relationship. It was a short-lived separation, in the end, but the fallout from that time apart has followed me up to the present day. He took away my collar, which hurt, and it wasn't until very recently that I was allowed to have it back.

As you might imagine, all of this upheaval has left me unsettled in more ways than one, including doubts about my continued submissive role and journey of self-discovery.

As I move forward in my journey - and as I grow older, let's not beat around the bush here - I am discovering that my tolerances for certain things have changed. In some cases, they've increased, but in others, they've decreased. It's the decrease which concerns me, especially when it clashes with my professed desire to keep working toward becoming more perfectly submissive.

Conversely, I also feel like that short separation was necessary for me, to have space to take an objective look at where I am, where I was, where I hope to go. Since our reconciliation, Master has mentioned that he sees an increased commitment on my part, a sense of peace that I wasn't expressing before. And I suppose that's true. I find myself less inclined to argue with him or to object to things I objected strongly to not so long ago. I have told him, many times, that this is how I process things - I have to have time to ponder them, and then I can usually accept them and go on. When I feel pressured, then I become obstinate, and that's when things get ugly.

However, for today, I'm feeling good about who I am and who I'm becoming.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

An Open Letter to Master

This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

An open letter to Master:

You know, sir, that it is my deep desire to serve you, to please you when I serve and to grow into the sub you want and desire me to be. I am aware that the tasks you've set for me, whether I find them pleasant or not, are designed to further my own admitted goals to serve as you wish.  I do not always fulfill them perfectly, and I struggle more with some than with others. But the goal, I believe, is to shape me into a more compliant, more willing, more joyful submissive.

Having said that - I do have personal preferences, and certain ways you use me are more enjoyable for me than others. And were it up to me (acknowledging, of course, that it is not), I would prefer to be used in these more pleasurable ways.

Some of the things I enjoy most - since you asked how I would want Master to use his property - include being blindfolded and bound to the bed, so I can't see what's happening. I like being tied down so I can merely twist and writhe, but can't really move too much. I like it when you use ice cubes, both allowing them to melt & chill my skin, & when you stuff a few of them inside me, letting them melt into pools of cold water beneath me. I enjoy it when you drip hot wax on me, in dribbles & dabs & swirls, coating me as much as possible.

I like it when you bury your face in my pussy (which is your property, obviously, but for the sake of clarity I say "mine," here) & allow me to cum over your tongue. I can feel your fingers digging into my legs, keeping me as still as possible, & my hips try to buck up into your mouth of their own accord. I like it sometimes when you finger-fuck me while telling me not to cum, to hold off until you say .... it's a fine line between pleasure & pain, that denial of release, & sometimes despite my best efforts I can't hang on, & you know this.

I like being allowed to suck your cock, to pull you into my mouth & run my tongue along your shaft, feeling it fill & thicken until it's too much for me to take. I like that even though I gag, you don't get upset, but merely encourage me to keep trying. I like knowing how much you enjoy fucking my ass, also. It's not my favorite position, as I'm sure you're aware, but you take care to make sure I'm ready, & then when it all clicks, I feel your pleasure in your movements, & that's good for me, too.

I like it, sir, when you cup my breast in your hand & pinch the nipple between your fingers. I like it when you bite me, leaving bruises on your property for me to see & admire for several days. I find I don't even mind it when you slap my breast hard enough to leave the marks of your fingers imprinted on the tender flesh. I like it when you tell me I'm a good girl, & you call me your whore. I like being allowed to sit at your feet & lean against your knee. I like it when you run your fingers through my hair & call me "pet."

Thursday, September 4, 2014

A Day of Bondage

This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.

So my Master has asked me to detail what I think 3 days of bondage might be like. Hmm. Three days seems a bit overwhelming, to be honest; what I'm going to do is begin with one day, then expand it from there as I can. I am working under a few assumptions, as well: that this experience occurs just between Master and me; that it takes place in a hotel, so that the chance of outside distractions is minimized; and that there will be break time in between periods of intensity, so that I can catch my breath. Master knows that I freak out when I am overwhelmed.

I imagine that as soon as I arrive, Master will begin our time together by having me perform acts of service for him. Usually this involves me dropping all my bags, stripping off my clothes and immediately sucking his cock. As soon as I cross the threshold, I am no longer in charge of my own self. That is as it has always been, so I don't think he would necessarily change that. Anyway, I'd climb on the bed, kneeling next to him, bending over to pull his cock into my mouth. I like feeling his cock on my tongue, the salty tang of his skin, the musky scent filling my nose - though it takes me a few minutes to get used to it, every time. And as I suckle his shaft I can feel it growing, elongating, filling and hardening and too large for me to take. It kills my jaw to open that wide, but I still try, still suck him, still pull him in as far as I can, gagging myself in the process. He doesn't mind, so I keep at it, and he tells me I'm a good cocksucker, and calls me kitten, and I'm sweating and my heart is beating fast, like I've been running. 

"Bring my pussy here," he says, and I shift on my knees so that my ass is angled toward him, allowing his fingers to stroke and press and fondle me as I suck him. I often have trouble keeping my rhythm when he does this, because usually his fingers dig into my clit so firmly, harshly, even, that it passes from pleasurable to the edge of painful, and it is hard to keep my mind on just sucking him when my lower half is trying to cringe away from the intense pressure. I have in the past actually pulled away from him to get relief, and he doesn't like it. In fact, I usually get some hard smacks on my ass for my trouble, and then he yanks me back into place and lets his fingers go back to rubbing and digging anyway.  He may keep up his actions until he forces me to orgasm, or he may not, whatever strikes his fancy at the time.

When he has decided he's played enough, and that I've sucked his cock for long enough, he will make me lie on my back in the middle of the bed. I imagine at that point he will bring in several implements that he can play with. First, he will bind my wrists together and then tie my hands to the bed, stretching them up over my head so I cannot touch him or reach out in any way. He will settle the bit gag between my teeth, asking me to lift my head so that he can buckle it into place. He'll blindfold me next, so that I cannot see what he'll be using on me, and finally, I think he might bind my feet together - sole to sole, with my knees bent and flat on the bed so that his pussy is wide open and accessible for his playtime activities.

After that will likely come a variety of actions. I imagine he will, at some point, paint my body with hot wax. I almost always have a small white jar candle available for sessions, as we frequently use wax in this way. This, I must admit, is one of my very favorite things. I love being blindfolded when he does this, so that every drip and splash and drizzle of wax is a complete surprise to me. It stings, yes, and it burns a little, yes; but I love it, even when he splashes the wax on my sensitive nipples, even when he drizzles a trail of hot wax over my clit so that it drips down over my pussy. Lord above, but that makes me so very wet. He will often set down the candle after a while and thrust his fingers inside me, finding that I'm soaking the sheets, and he'll usually comment on it, too. I can't help it - every drip of wax makes me shiver, and little sighs and moans of pleasure escape me while he paints my skin. After several minutes of this I'll start squirming on the bed, my body hoping for him to allow me to cum, but of course, he won't permit it so soon, and I'll spend the next however-long-he-says trembling with desire and pent-up need, but being denied release until he decides it's time.

Eventually the wax is used up, and he usually peels most of the cooled, hardened wax off my skin as he prepares to move on to the next activity. I may be blindfolded, but my ears still work just fine, and I hear a metallic clink as he moves around the room. He settles on the bed next to me and begins rolling one of my nipples in his fingers. I know what's coming, and this time it isn't one of my favorite things ..... but he is Master, and he decides, so I try to relax and just go with it. Once the nipple perks up and stands tall for him, he attaches one of the clover clamps to it. Goddammit, but that hurts, and I have to suck in a sharp breath as the tiny teeth dig into the tender flesh, squeezing so tightly. He teases the other nipple into a peak as well, and the chain is cool as it slides across my chest. He attaches the second clamp to my nipple and again, I whimper as it bites harshly, painfully, into the flesh. God, I hate these things, but he says they look pretty. Ugh. They hurt, is all I know, and they never stop hurting. He might even pull the chain taut, pulling on the nipples and raising my breasts into the air. Fuck, fuck, that is so painful, and I whine loudly and moan in pain when he does that. Bound as I am, I cannot undo the clamps, and he leaves them in place while he slides off the bed to retrieve another implement. I am panting, and I am 100% focused on how much my poor breasts are hurting. This is not fun, not in the slightest, and all I can hope for is that he won't make me wear them for long. 

He comes back, then, and I feel the bed dip as he again comes near me. His fingers are suddenly sliding over my clit, and I jump at the unexpected contact. That jostles me, and the clamps sway, pulling more painfully on my nipples and I cry out then, shaking, because it hurts so much and I feel my eyes tearing up under the blindfold. I toss my head and turn away from him. His fingers are stroking my clit and sliding into my pussy, and I can feel that I am so very wet. I'm panting again, more harshly, at the sensations warring in my body, the ever-present sharp unrelenting pain in my breasts and the fast-building desire and need to climax burning between my thighs. My hips start to rock of their own accord, and every thrust they make against his fingers jostles the clamps, and I'm shot through with another spear of pain. I moan again, more loudly than before, and I'm saying "ow, ow, ow" over and over again, though the words are muffled by the bit. 

Master shifts then, sliding down toward the foot of the bed, and the next thing I feel is his hot, wet tongue and his lips clamping down over my clit. God! I buck up into his mouth and pull on the bonds securing my hands to the head of the bed. And then I shriek, though again, it's muffled by the bit, because that much movement has really jostled the clamps and I feel like my nipples are going to be pinched right off. Despite the amazing feel of his tongue, I'm more focused on the pain, and tears leak from my eyes as I freeze in place. Of course, I cannot keep still, because Master's tongue is still lashing at my clit and the fierce need to cum is beginning to override everything else. He lifts his head a fraction, just long enough to say, "Cum," and lowers his mouth again. In the next couple seconds, I give in, and my climax rips through me. I buck up hard and wail around the bit, because I'm slammed by conflicting sensations - the intense release and pleasure of my orgasm mixed and dampened by the lancing pain in my nipples. I collapse to the bed, softly moaning "ow, ow, ow, ow" in an endless chant, and I toss my head again. Now that the wave of pleasure has passed, all I'm left with is the pain, and I'm not handling it well. Master opens one clamp, releasing the nipple, and I scream because the returning blood flow hurts even more than the clamps did. He releases the other clamp and I shriek again, and now I'm really crying. God damn it, that hurts so fucking bad. I want to roll into a ball and weep, but of course, I can't move, so I just lie there all teary and sniffly and miserable. And I'm not ungrateful - it really was a good orgasm - but it is completely overshadowed by the residual pain I'm feeling.

Master must know what I'm thinking, because he reaches over and touches my shoulder, rubbing it in a soothing way. "Good girl," he tells me. "Good girl." And it helps, a little; I'm still hurting, and my nose is stuffy from crying, but I always crack a tiny smile when he says that. And so I'm able to nod my head, just a little, to let him know I'm OK. I feel the bed move as he leaves it, and I sniffle sharply and grip the bit between my teeth, sucking in a breath around the bit and trying to make myself relax. The pain in my nipples is dulling a little bit; they still hurt a lot, but it isn't the fierce sharp intense pain from earlier, but a deep aching pain. I don't want anyone to touch them, still, but I am relieved to note the pain is abating slowly.

I hear Master walking around, but he doesn't get back on the bed. The next thing I know, I feel a quick sting on my left inner thigh, and I jump - or at least, I jump as much as I'm able in my restrained position. I whimper, both because of the surprise and the way my breasts hurt when I moved like that. Another quick light sting follows, and then I realize Master has taken up the flogger. Lucky me!! I do tend to enjoy the way he wields this implement. I shift again, cautiously, and then I feel the whisper-light touch of the flogger's tails being dragged up my left leg, from my ankle up my calf, up my inner thigh, and then teasingly across my pussy and clit, over my stomach and ending just under my breasts. That felt good, like a caress, and I sigh quietly and tip my head back. Master chuckles, then, and says, "Oh, you do like that, don't you, whore?" I mumble "Yes, sir" around the bit, and am rewarded when he repeats his actions on my right leg. As the tails cross my pussy this time I tremble slightly and whimper - but this whimper is of pleasure, not of pain, and I try to open my legs further, even though I'm already as open as I can be. 

Master takes his time teasing me, dragging the tails over my skin again and again, popping me with sharp strokes occasionally, but never in a pattern I can figure out, so each of the sharper blows takes me by surprise and makes me flinch and groan. And gradually I feel the buildup of desire again, my pussy growing wet and my body shivering as my need grows stronger and I feel the desire to cum growing sharper. After long minutes of this I'm trembling, and panting around the bit, moaning more loudly and succumbing to a deep-seated ache of an entirely different kind. Master talks to me, gently mimicking my whining tone as he asks,"What's the matter, kitten? Hmm? Something wrong?"

I shake my head, but I don't know if he's watching or not. No, scratch that - of course he's watching. He likes this, likes to see me losing control like this, likes knowing I've surrendered all of myself to him and his desires. His use of the flogger is driving me out of my mind, though, and when the tails drag over my pussy this time I buck up under it, trying - futilely - to seek release.  I feel two quick sharp smacks - maybe I've overstepped by bucking up into the flogger? - and I gasp at the harsh stings, but then I feel the bed dip as Master sits beside me. I can feel the way he leans over me then, his breath hot as it fans over my breast. He murmurs, "Awww, kitten, what's wrong? Does my whore want to cum, maybe?"  I'm unable to do anything but whine and pull at the bonds restraining my hands. My body twists as I try to turn toward him, silently seeking his touch and, perhaps, relief from this terrible and delicious feeling of need between my legs. In the next moment I feel him slip two fingers into my pussy, and I moan and my hips thrust up as I try to ride his fingers. "Oh, you are just soaking," he says, and he pumps his fingers in and out as my hips rock. I'm panting around the bit and my jaw is killing me, being forced open for so long, but I don't care, all I care about is the way his fingers are fucking me and I'm desperate to climax. The bed shifts and then I feel his lips close around my left nipple, and I cry out and arch my back, pressing my breast into his mouth. The nipple is still sore, but it's bearable, and oh God, but his mouth is hot and wet, and his fingers are thrusting deep into my pussy, and I can feel my juices dripping down my legs and pooling on the sheets beneath me. 

His mouth tightens around my nipple, pulling on it and causing a flare of - not pain, exactly, but it's still rather sore from earlier and I'm feeling it when he sucks on it. But his fingers are fucking his pussy hard, now, and I'm moaning and rocking and pulling at my bonds and trying so hard to ride his fingers, and the discomfort in my nipple is overshadowed by the waves of need rippling through me. He adds another finger, which stretches me wider and is just the littlest bit uncomfortable, but at this point I really don't care, trembling on the edge of orgasm and needing just a little more, just a little, almost there, oh, God, please .... I say that last phrase out loud and he lifts his head and says, "I am your God, aren't I, whore?"

"Yes, yes, yes," I say, though the bit in my mouth garbles the words and I'm panting so hard I can hardly form the words anyway. He latches on to my nipple again and flicks his tongue over the peak, and that's it - my climax rips through me, stealing the breath from my lungs in a loud cry. My entire body tenses, tightens, contracts, my pussy muscles clamping down on his fingers, my hips bucking up in one last thrust, my back bowing up off the mattress. I have no idea how long it lasts; I only know that my muscles are locked and frozen, and I can do nothing but ride the waves of release and pleasure as they flow through my entire body. At last my muscles relax and I collapse on the bed, panting harshly, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. But Master's fingers are still inside me and he begins pumping them one more, fast and hard, and he commands, "Again." His thumb rubs deep circles against my clit and, impossibly, I feel my body responding, another climax approaching even though I feel spent from this last one. My hips begin rocking again, seeking release again, and I bear down on his fingers, chasing the orgasm which is hovering just out of reach. "You're going to cum for your master, aren't you, whore?" he challenges, and I nod my head and say, "Yes, sir, yes, sir," as best I can around the bit. I can hear the squelch as his fingers pump my pussy, it's so wet and his fingers are so slippery, and my juices are coating his thumb as it rubs against my clit, and then all of a sudden, there it is, and I moan loudly and tense as I climax again, not so strongly as before but still quite intense.

It takes longer for me to relax this time, a slower recovery. I'm gasping, gulping in great mouthfuls of air, my chest heaving, my body trembling. Master slips his fingers out of my pussy, and even though I'm so tired, , I still whine in protest at the loss. He chuckles then, acknowledging my whine. I feel him pulling the tape off my feet, and I stretch my legs out straight, working out the muscles. He releases my hands next, then has me sit up so he can unbuckle the gag and then unties the blindfold. I open my eyes slowly, blinking and squinting as my eyes adjust to the light. The charm on my collar bounces against my skin as I move, and I instinctively reach up to catch it between my fingers. I've worn this collar for a long time now and never take it off. Master sees what I've done, and he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his lips turned up in a smirk. Without asking, I suddenly pivot around to lay my head on his bent knee, and his fingers come up to card trough my hair. 

"Tired, kitten?" he asks, and there's a hint teasing in his voice. I just nod, my head rubbing against his leg, and he allows me to lie there and rest for a while. 

....... to be continued