Tuesday, August 26, 2014


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 yes, anticipation - this whore has some time scheduled with Master later this week, and am I ever looking forward to it!

He's already informed (warned?) me that it's likely to be an intense session, and I should be prepared to be very sore and bruised when all is said and done. I have mixed feelings about that ... I like a few pretty bruises to see and admire afterward, but I don't want to be covered in them, necessarily. I do still have the rest of my life to attend to when we're finished. And "sore" can cover anything from that pleasantly achy feeling you get after a good workout, to a deep painful oh-my-god-i-can't-move kind of ache. So I'm not quite sure which end of the spectrum I'll be on.

Master has also stepped up some of my personal training tasks recently, in preparation for our session. In addition to my usual weekly task of wearing a string of 5 beads in my vagina for several hours, and one day per week where I go panty-less, he has instructed me to work with an anal plug on a daily basis. Well, let me tell you - that has never been, and never will be, my favorite thing to do. It took me several days to get past the pain enough to be able to actually seat the thing, and now these past several days I have been slowly increasing the amount of time the plug stays seated. It is not a fun task for me, but I am seeing progress, so I suppose that's good. And Master seems pleased with how things are coming along, so that's a very good thing.

I have been instructed to bring with me a variety of toys/implements, that he may choose what we'll make use of. Included in my collection are a flogger, a rattan cane, 2 anal plugs, a bit gag,  candle, clover clamps, clothes pins,  anal beads, Smart Balls, a few assorted dildos/vibrators, a bandana/blindfold, and tape. Lord only knows how I'll get all of that packed, but it shall be done, as he has said.

I do not have many details of what to expect, really, other than Master's comments about bruised/sore. I can imagine the way a few scenarios might go, though.

I imagine that as soon as I walk in the room, Master will command me to suck his cock. This is his usual way to set the tone, so I will climb on the bed next to him and take him into my mouth, rolling my tongue along his length, reacquainting myself with his taste, the way he hardens on my tongue, the silky glide of his skin against my lips as I move my head. I will breathe shallowly at first, as his musky scent fills my nostrils, relearning again how to time my breaths with my sucking. His cock will swell and harden, filling my mouth, then overfilling it, so that I struggle to take in as much of him as I can. And I will gag, and choke, and possibly vomit (not my favorite thing), and eventually he will allow me to wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him while I suckle him.

I imagine that at some point he will desire to fuck my ass, and given all the training he's had me do with the plug recently, I imagine that's what he will use to loosen me up for him. There will be lube spread on the tip, and then he will work the plug into my opening, forcing it wider to accept the plug while I rock and whine and grit my teeth, because it still hurts every single time. Once  it's seated, he'll probably give me a minute to adjust, then begin moving the plug, pushing it a bit deeper, then pulling it back, over and over, until he feels I've loosened up enough. He likes it when I ride him, so he'll probably have me slick up his cock with lube, or perhaps merely my own pussy juices, then straddle him while he works his cock inside me, and he'll fuck my ass thoroughly.

In another scenario, he may (and I hope he does!) tie me up, binding my hands above my head, and possibly binding my ankles as well. He may blindfold me, too, if he wishes. And then I'll feel the quick hot sting of hot candle wax being drizzled on my skin. I don't know why I love it so much, only that I do, and he often indulges me by making my body his personal canvas, painting swirls and loops and thin or thick lines on my bare skin with the wax. Even when the wax drips on my sensitive nipples, or my even more sensitive pussy, I lie there and whine and whimper and love every second of it.

My body is his canvas in other ways, also; he will bite me, hard, so that bruises bloom immediately.  Sometimes he cradles my breast in his palm, then smacks it with his other hand, leaving fingerprints in blues and purples on my pale flesh. I bear these marks proudly, glad to have them later, after all is over, as visible, tangible reminders of Master's ownership and possession of his whore.

He may choose to use the cane, or the flogger. I prefer the flogger, frankly, but as Master chooses, so it becomes. In either case I will likely end up with stripes on my skin from where he has struck me. Don't get me wrong: this is not a violent beating; I don't end up in the ER when he's done. He is not abusive to me.  He IS firm, and authoritative, and if he chooses to incorporate this type of activity into our session, then that's what will happen. What I love about the flogger is that it can be both hurtful and sensual, depending on how it's wielded. I love how it feels as it's being trailed along my skin, up over my back, perhaps, or lightly across my pussy and clit. It's delicious.

Master has hinted at some possible events, but as I don't know for sure, I won't speculate here. I only know he won't truly hurt me, and that I will endeavor to follow his commands as best I can, for I long to hear his genuine approval, and his softly-spoken "good girl" always makes me smile.


Saturday, August 16, 2014

Session Notes

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 yesterday, after RL had interfered for quite a while, Master & I had some time for a short session. And I was grateful for it, truly; a sub needs her Master's time & attention.

He had me begin by collecting the - tools? Toys? Implements? - I would need: my Japanese clover clamps (2), a string of my black anal beads, and my pocket-sized vibrator. I cringed internally when he mentioned the clamps - these suckers hurt, no two ways about it.

Master told me to connect the clamps, left nipple to left pussy lip, right nipple to right pussy lip. This, I admit, was new. I teased my left nipple for a minute so that it hardened, then positioned the open clamp around it, & very gingerly allowed the clamp to close. Oh, oww; I immediately sucked in a great noisy breath as the sensation of pain speared through the tender peak. The clamp on the other end of the chain went on the left labial lip, & again, oww. I repeated the process on the right side, letting loose a whimper as the teeth of the clamp dug into my sensitive flesh. And then I panted harshly through my nose, trying to adjust to & deal with the hurt.

Then Master had me stand. Ugh, oww, again, as the clamps jostled with my movements & the chain tightened & pulled. He loves these clamps, but OMG, I am caught up in how much they fucking hurt. To add to his viewing pleasure, he had me cup my hands under my breasts & lift them so that the chains pulled taut. Fuck, fuck, fuck, oww, ow. Then he had me drop them, quickly, so that they bounced & the chains swung & again, more pain shooting through me. I yelped, I couldn't help it. Dammit.

Now, I will admit that after a several minutes the sharpness of the pain dulls a little. Just a little, mind, but enough that if I don't have to move around too much I can split my focus - the pain is still present & I'm still conscious of it, but I can follow directions. And so Master told me to pick up my little vibe & position it against my clit as I stood there, & to cum while he watched. I turned the vibe on, then requested - & was granted - permission to prop one knee on the edge of the bed. That helped open me up for easier access, thank God, & also relieved some of the burden of holding myself up.

With the little vibe humming in my hand, I eased it between my legs & laid it against my clit. You have to understand, it jostled the clamps with every little movement, giving me a dual pain-pleasure sensation. It hurts like mad, those clamps pulling & biting into the flesh, but the happy little humming on my clit does feel good. Anyway, within a few minutes I did cum, my body bowing forward as the waves passed through me. I was very glad for the support of the bed under my leg. Then Master had me cum again. This one was harder to get to, but I did cum a second time, again bowing forward.

When I straightened, Master told me to fill his pussy. I know what that means - I take the string of beads (there are 5) & insert them into my vagina. He also had me count each one as it disappeared inside me. Given that I had cum twice, there was plenty of natural lube in there to ease their passage, but my hand was bumping against the clamps as I worked, so I'm sure my voice wavered as I counted. By this time I was really gritting my teeth against the pain of the clamps, as it seemed to be getting worse as time went on.

Then Master had me use the vibe to cum twice more, only now I was to cum silently - no noise. Each one was harder to achieve, took longer, didn't feel as good, as the pain was really interfering. And though I really did try, I know a few whimpers escaped me. Afterward my whole body was trembling with the strain of standing so long and having pain affect me. My nipples hurt, my labia hurt, my inner walls were a little sore from contracting against all those beads. I trembled harder, & tears filled my eyes, though I blinked them back, so none fell down my cheeks.

At that point Master told me to remove the clamps from my nipples. I cradled my left breast in my left palm as my right hand grasped the clamp & eased the teeth open. I let out a short, sharp cry then; I swear the damn thing hurts even more when released as it does when applied. I held the clamp in my hand while removing the other clamp, again crying out as fresh waves of pain flooded out from the abused nipple. I stood there, shaking, and Master told me to drop the clamps. OMG. I hesitated for a split second, & all I could think was, Shit, this is going to hurt.

And it did, oh, God, as the freed clamps hit the end of the chain, yanking down on my pussy lips, & I screeched this time. Holy fuck. Tears welled up again & I felt my lips trembling. Master told me to pick up my little vibe and cum yet again. I opened my legs & stroked my clit, but the free clamps acted as weights, swinging on the chains as my body moved & sending constant new bursts of pain through me. It was not a happy orgasm, nor enjoyable in the least, & when my body bowed forward to the bed this time, I stayed there, gulping in air. I know a couple of sobs made their way out of my throat. When I stood up this time Master told me to remove the clamps, which I did immediately, crying out as each clamp came free. God dammit, that hurt.
Master had me sit on the bed, then, with my legs spread so he could see my pussy. I didn't look, but I am quite sure the labia were swollen, with red areas where the clamps had been. He asked if I were a little tender. Ha! A little tender, he says!

But all I said was, "Yes, sir."
He could see that the beads were still in place, all 5 of them tucked inside my vagina. He told me to cum once again, which was a little bit easier than the last time, though still not all that pleasurable, to be honest. I was just tired, & worn out, & hurting. After that, he told me to remove the beads, which I did. They made a wet, sucking noise as I pulled them out, which prompted him to comment on how wet his pussy was. Well, yeah, of course.  I held the beads up for his inspection & asked if he wanted me to clean them. He said it was my choice, so, I did. With my tongue. He likes that, & I know he likes that, so even though it doesn't thrill me, I did that for him.

And then, finally I was allowed to relax, & we talked while I was allowed to rest & recover. By the time the session was over, I was feeling better, though still quite tender, & not so weepy.

Still this morning, my pussy is tender. I winced while using the toilet, & again in the shower as the shower scrubby passed over it. But the time spent with my Master was worth it.



Thursday, July 17, 2014


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, wow, it's been a month since my last post here. Hmm. I have been turning a lot of things over in my head in that time, and it has not been a smooth or easy month for either me or my Dom.

I have been unsettled because of the way he wants to ramp up our agreement. He has not been thrilled with me at the way I've been dragging my feet.

Here's the issue: A way long time ago (like, more than 2 years), when I was very very new at submission and had not long been involved with my Dom, he wanted to set up a three-some with another female. And I at the time agreed. He put me in touch with her and we two ladies chatted and emailed and even had a few telephone conversations, and at the time I felt a connection to her and thought I could handle that situation. Well, for reasons only my Dom could tell you, that meeting never happened. 

So about a year ago, as things between the two of us were solidifying, he starts talking about bringing in another person again (a different female, someone I don't know and have never spoken to). And since I'm a year older and wiser, I felt strongly that I really did not want to go there. So I argued and fought and said I didn't want to, and in sessions he would ramp me up to the verge of orgasm and then force me to repeat that I am his whore and my body is his to do with what he wants, and if he wants a third party, I will agree. And honestly, trembling there on the edge of cumming, I would repeat the words, and only then would he allow me to cum.

So yeah, he blatantly used manipulative techniques. I see it, I know it, I allowed it.

But recently he's really been pushing the subject again, and I know he is in contact with someone he may be thinking of asking to be that third party. And I hate it. I brought up that he's asking an awful lot of me, to make myself vulnerable to a stranger, and how do I know this person is clean/safe/discreet?  And all he says is, I need to trust him to not allow anything to hurt me. And I cried and argued and fought, and eventually he said, very clearly, that this is non-negotiable. If I want to continue to be his sub, I must do this.

Well. I have been very carefully, seriously considering that. Some days I think that I will be able to go through with it, and be OK. And other days I am convinced that it is totally the wrong move for me, and I will be damaged if I do. Not physically, no; but if I allow a crossing of a personal boundary, how will I feel about it? Will I suffer guilt/anxiety/remorse afterward?

I keep repeating myself to him - At the end of the day, I have to be proud of my behavior.

And I honestly do not know if I would be. And I am not at all sure I want to be without my Dom, either, but apparently this is what my choice is: Participate in the threesome (and more than once, I have already been told), or I will lose my collar. End of discussion.

I do not know what to do.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Master's whore. For real.

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.

You need to know, right off the top, that I was assigned a task by Master, and that I didn't like it. At. All. It's one thing to be his whore in bed. It's quite another to be pimped out by him. We disagree, vehemently, about whether that's what he did. I have been told to detail the experience, so that's what follows:

Master told me I was to suck off another man, of his choosing. I was supposed to finger Master's pussy & cum while I sucked & to moan Master's name. And then I was to hold this man's cum in my mouth, to take a photo/video proving it, & then rinse my mouth out - no swallowing. Lastly, I was to recite my 7-stanza devotional 5 times before I went to sleep.

So I approached this person, and basically said to him, Look, I have a request, & it's going to sound odd, but just hear me out. I want you to sit here on this chair & let me suck you off.

I got quite a strange look, I can tell you. But he sat down.

I took him into my mouth & started sucking, rolling my tongue over his cock to get a feel for him, you know? He was not nearly as thick as Master, not nearly as difficult to take in. I started bobbing my head, drawing him into my tongue & pushing him back out. And honest to God, he lasted barely a minute. Barely. I hadn't even touched myself when all of a sudden I had a thin mouthful of cum, so I got up & went into the bathroom right away to record a video of me letting the cum fall out of my mouth. And then I rinsed, & spit, & rinsed again. And before I took myself off to bed that night, I sent the video to Master & recited my devotion as I had been told. Part of me was happy I had followed through, & part of me was horrified.

The following morning Master told me to go cum, & I complied as soon as I got his directive. And Master sent me a message stating that he was pleased with my compliance in this.

But I have been unsettled by this incident.  And now he is calling my compliance into question & hinting that he may ask me to do this again.

I spent quite a while that night feeling slightly nauseated by the taste of another man on my tongue, & feeling ill-used, to be frank. I know that the language of BDSM talks a lot about Masters and property and surrendering and giving up all control. When I expressed my sick stomach to Master, he told me to be proud that I had followed his wishes and done what he told me to do. But it isn't helping that much, & in fact, I am still having a hard time with it. He says I am strong, but I'm not feeling like it.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Nobody's Perfect, Not Even a Dom

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 I got to spend some one-on-one time with my Master recently. In many ways - in most ways, it was very good. In some ways, though, I felt it was lacking. And though I don't believe it was my fault, I do take responsibility for it.

Let me set the scene, so to speak -

When we first arrived, Master told me I was going to be his pet. He had me strip, then sit on the floor near him ("Do you allow your pets on the furniture at home? No, you do not."). OK, fine, I'm all right with this. We ate a bit of dinner, me sitting on the floor the whole time. All right. But after a while, the floor became very uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting constantly to try and find a position which didn't cause my legs or my hips to strain or fall asleep. Finally I said that the floor was not comfortable, and Master pointed across the room and said, "There's a chair."

Now what am I supposed to do with that? Was it an order to go sit in the chair, or permission to sit there if I felt I needed to, or merely an observation? I didn't know. I looked at him uncertainly for a minute and then slowly crossed the room and settled in the chair. He said nothing, and there I remained. And I didn't like it. I didn't know if I was in compliance or not, and now I felt uncertain and insecure.

Later on, in session, Master started off by placing my bit gag in my mouth and fastening it securely. He then blindfolded me and secured it with tape. Then he removed my collar. I felt funny without it, but he said it was to protect it, so I said nothing. (In fact, dummy that I am, I thought perhaps he was going to replace it. Silly me.) Next, with my arms down at my sides, he used tape to bind my arms in place. I merely stood quietly, becoming excited at the thought of being totally helpless before him. I do trust him, you know, not to truly hurt me, so even though I felt a little shiver of nervousness, I was mostly quivering in anticipation.

When I was suitably bound, he guided me to lie on my back on the bed, and draw my feet up, soles touching, my knees open wide. I was now completely open before him, all of me laid out as an offering on an altar.  And I was excited by it. He commented that he could see me trembling, and I could feel my lower lip quivering, but again, it was in anticipation, not fear.

I felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of the bed beside me. His fingers immediately probed into his pussy and found it already wet and wanting. "You are dripping," he said, his voice husky. I could only nod. Of course I was! I'd been waiting a long time for this!

His mouth fastened over the peak of my nipple as his fingers began pumping me. I arched up in response to the delicious wet heat of his mouth, and was disappointed when he pulled away. He said something about knowing that I like being bitten - or was it bruised? My heart was beating so strongly I had trouble hearing him. I just know that I nodded.

He moved away then, and I heard the jingle of chains scraping across the bedside table. Right after that, I was arching up again, but this time in pain; Master had attached my clover clamps to my nipples. Those things HURT. I squirmed and moaned in discomfort, but my voice was muffled by the gag, and of course my bindings restricted my movement. I panted around the gag, trying to put the pain away. Master's fingers went back into his pussy then, and his voice was both disbelieving and delighted as he commented on just how wet I was.

Taking the clamps off hurt almost as much as applying them, and I know I moaned and twisted when he removed them. Then he sucked one nipple into his mouth, and it was both sore and wonderful. It sounds odd, doesn't it? It felt odd, too - my body responding as he suckled it but also having to contend with feelings of pain mixed in. Very strange.

But he likes to do that with me, mix in a little pain to heighten the pleasure.

He moved away then, leaving me to lie there for several minutes, still bound and in position while he puttered around the room for a bit. I heard his footsteps as he came back, and the next thing I knew, there was a flare of intense heat on my skin. Ah, he'd poured hot wax on me. My body tensed, of course, as I had had no warning, and he continued to dribble the wax down on me, on my nipples, across my tummy, and over my clit til it was well coated. And it was hot, yes, but I loved it, even as I shook and tensed and whimpered at the sting of the mild burns.

And then he brought out a surprise - a flogger. I jumped when I felt the tails trailing over my skin; it took a few seconds for me to realize I wasn't feeling pain. Master varied the touch of the flogger, now slow and gentle, now flicking with sharp stings on my nipples, now thudding firmly on my clit. And I never knew which type of hit was coming next, so I was tense, but I really enjoyed that, too. And Master let me cum, more than once, and that was quite nice, too.

But what happened next really confused me. He flipped me onto my stomach (which I resisted because I was afraid I would roll right off the side of the bed) and then had me pull up my knees, so that my ass was up in the air but my face and shoulders were pressed into the mattress. He then lubed up a set of anal beads and inserted all five of them inside me. I know I was panting, cuz I'm not really a fan of these beads, and I hurt and hissed and whined as he pushed each one inside.

And then he walked away and left me there like that. Granted, he is Master, and so I did not argue or complain, but I was unsure of what to do. He came back after several minutes and helped me stand up, then released all my bindings and told me to go take a shower, but to leave the balls in place. Umm, all right. I came out after my shower and sat on the floor next to the couch. And he didn't speak to me, and I didn't speak to him, and after a while he told me I could take the balls out. OK. So I did. And that was it. And he left my collar lying on the table for the rest of our time together.

And I felt like I'd been left hanging, you know? There was no sense of closure or completion, and simply wearing the balls for the 30 minutes or so that it was didn't seem to have a purpose. I didn't get it.

I still don't get it.

And so this is the thing I must take responsibility for - I didn't ask. I didn't tell my Master that I was feeling wrong-footed and off-balance and unsure. I didn't tell him that I needed more from him in that moment. I didn't tell him that I felt incomplete without my collar, that I felt as though he'd left the symbol of my devotion and commitment lying in a tangle on the table, as though it were of no importance, and that made me feel as though I was not important, either. I merely sat, again, in the chair across the room and kept quiet. And so, because I felt terribly shy and inconsequential, I didn't say any of what was on my mind. And when we parted ways, I had no bite marks or bruises to take home with me, not one single kiss to taste him with, and I had to ask him to please put my collar back on, because he seemed to think it was fine if I did it myself.  

So for those reasons, I was disappointed in how things turned out. And I can't expect my Master to read my mind, and I really do struggle with how much can I say and still be submissive, you know? Like, how does one respectfully and submissively say, I really enjoyed the times we were in session, but your after-care sucked? And here we are, several days later, and I still feel unsettled by how things were left.

And it doesn't mean I want to quit, or that I don't enjoy being his sub/slut/whore/pet/Kitten, because I really do. And I hope he keeps me for a long, long time. I just wish I could talk to him about how I feel on this issue, cuz I know that if I keep it buried, it's gonna come back to bite me in the ass. And not in the good way.  :)

Sunday, May 11, 2014

The Countdown Is On ...

This is an adult blog, containing graphic and frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. read at your own risk.

And finally, finally, the time for my weekend away with Master is almost here; only 4 days to go, now, and counting.

I need this time, this opportunity to focus on him and to redefine my service. It has been far too long since we've had more than a handful of hours to devote to one-on-one time together.

And I am nervous. Oh, I'm pretty much always nervous before we have such focused time together like this. I tend to imagine what he may require of me, and it usually involves pain. Now,  I am NOT a pain slut. I hate pain, I cry, I try to get out of it. So I imagine, and I worry, and then I start to obsess. And it all stems from my own uncertainties do I still  please him? Am I submissive enough? Can I overcome my pride/fears/self-awareness and become his perfectly willing whore?

As I see it, he can go from neutral to Dominant in the blink of an eye. It takes me much longer to disengage from all the outside stuff and be the focused, pliable sub/slut/pet that he needs me to be. My brain over-analyzes things.

When I mentioned to him about my nervousness, I told him it's always like that; that I have to step back and put all these things away every time. And he asked me why I do that, as it made more sense to him that I pull them out, deal with them and be done with them.

Well. What a concept.

So why don't I do that? Because dealing with these issues requires me to admit they are a problem, and I can't do that. I can't be seen as less than controlled and put-together and capable and strong, especially not by Master. He needs to know that he can count on my willing service, and if I have issues, my willingness might be called into question. And I can't have that.

But - 

Maybe it would be better for me to go ahead and confess my weakness. Maybe by putting my fears on the table, they can be dealt with and addressed and put to rest. Maybe it would be better for me to stop acting strong, work through these things that stunt my growth and actually become strong. 

I'll let you know.  :)  



Friday, April 25, 2014

And finally, day 7

This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.

So here we are, Day 7 of my week-long task. Today promised to be the most challenging yet - especially considering that the first thing I became aware of, as I blearily blinked in the early morning sun, was that my body was already was humming. Yes, I woke up already half-horny. Lovely. All right then, so let's get straight to it.

Session 1 took place in my bathroom. I shucked off my pajama pants and perched on the edge of the tub, my knees spread wide, resting on my toes. The first pass of my fingers over my clit had me bending forward with the rush of arousal that spiked through me. One pass. I am in trouble. I bit my lip and started rubbing myself, firm little circles that alternately tugged and pushed against that greedy little nub of flesh.  I was surprised at how quickly I was reaching for climax - I was pushing past a level 9 in under 2 minutes, surely. I dropped my feet flat against the floor as my legs trembled, and my free hand gripped the edge of the tub to balance myself. I swayed forward again, letting loose a quiet whimper as my body shivered and I felt my inner muscles contract. I had to stop then, so as not to get too close to cumming. I bowed my head and hoped to God I would survive this day.

Session 2 was very similar - I was upstairs on the couch, again, but kneeling on it with my left arm bent and resting on the top of the couch. My knees were open wide and sinking into the cushions. When I first swiped my fingers across Master's pussy I could feel that I was wet already - and I'd barely even touched myself. I leaned forward and rested my head on my bent arm, pressing my chest against the back of the couch, and began stroking myself. And again, I ramped up to an 8 very quickly, passing on to a 9 in just a few minutes. My breaths became pants and my hips rocked against my fingers as I crept ever closer to orgasm, little tremors shivering through my as Master's pussy grew juicier and trickled over my fingers. I gave my clit one last good firm stroke, and pitched forward as Master's pussy clenched once on emptiness. I gritted my teeth and panted through my nose, feeling like any little movement or even too big of a breath might be my undoing. When I was able to move, my legs definitely felt shaky, and it took much longer for my horniness level to drop back down. Even an hour later, I was still feeling half-way turned on, like a 4 - 5. 

Session 3 of the day was a danger zone. I was still at like a 4, and I went back to my bed. I knelt on it and leaned way down, so my upper body was pressing into the mattress with my ass sticking up in the air. When I reached between my legs, my fingers encountered a pool of juiciness which immediately coated my fingers and made them so, so slick. I moaned then, out loud, it just felt so good, the way my fingers skimmed over my clit and slid so freely over my skin. Damn. This session was the first time of the week where I kinda lost track of myself. I didn't think, I just felt, and my body rocked so hard that the bed shook and squeaked. My fingers were heaven and hell, combined, so delicious and pleasurable but yet not enough, never enough. I was definitely a 9+, teetering on the knife's edge, and in my mind's eye my Master was the one fondling his property and driving me relentlessly toward climax, and I writhed on his fingers and thought I'd gladly swallow his cock and suffer the pain of his teeth, and I moaned out loud, "Oh, Sir, yes." The sound of my own voice startled me, as I wasn't consciously aware of speaking, and in that heartbeat I became aware that I was Right There and Going to Fall Over. Oh, shit, shit, shit!! Master will not be pleased! I tore my fingers away and curled them into the comforter, the slick juices on my fingers dampening the fabric. I gasped, and gasped again, and felt Master's pussy tremble and try to contract. I slammed my legs together and fell to my side, curling into a ball and tensing my muscles to try and stave off my climax. It was a near miss, but I did not cum. And let me tell you - it hurt. For quite a while afterward I felt the wetness in my panties and the aching between my legs, and the quivering of my muscles. And I hated it, hated this task, hated having to torture myself like this for days on end, hated the painful result of so much build up and denial.

It took several hours before I was ready to attempt another session. By then I had calmed down, both in body and mind - though not so much in body. I spent the lion's share of those hours still feeling the effects. But at last I couldn't postpone any longer, so back to the bathroom I went. I knelt on one knee on the rug by the tub, planting my other foot to brace myself, and leaned my side against the tub. This way I was plenty steady. I was hesitant at first, too aware of just how close my earlier escape had been. So it was with tentative fingers that I reached down and lightly stroked my clit, testing the waters, so to speak. And yes, there were plenty of waters. It seems my body had not gotten over its earlier experience, and there was a little bit of tenderness when I pressed down firmly. Huh. So not only was I still wet, and still aroused, but now I was a bit sore as well. Great. But Master's will is Master's law, and so I continued on, rubbing myself and shifting my knee over to open up a bit wider. When I felt Master's pussy responding yet again, I bowed my head and bit my lip, letting loose a sigh that was part pleasure and part resignation. Despite my misgivings I couldn't prevent my hips from rocking against my fingers, nor stop my heart rate from speeding up, nor keep myself from feeling more and more aroused. It took longer than the previous attempt - partly because I'd been so tentative in the beginning, I think - but within several minutes I was once again panting lightly and feeling my juices flowing over my fingers, whimpering as my inner muscles clenched and that feeling of tightness deep in my belly began coiling. I continued on until I knew I'd be in danger if I kept going, so with pounding heart and rubbery-feeling legs I got up and half-staggered out of the room.

Slightly less than 2 hours later I was back for session 6. Because I'd been playing so often - and so close to the edge - I hadn't really recovered; I'd spent most of the day feeling wet and ready. And once again, as I squatted and leaned against the wall of the laundry room, my fingers were instantly coated with a goodly amount of slick juices as soon as I reached down and stroked myself. I groaned with frustration and braced my free hand on the wall next to me; this day just might kill me. I grit my teeth as my fingers sped up, driving my level of arousal higher - I reached an 8 within just a minute or so and banged my back off the wall as my hips bucked hard. I moaned at the feeling of desire swirling through me, that all-too-familiar ache coiling between my legs and making my legs feel shaky. My left hand gripped the wall harder as my right hand bore down on my clit, rubbing faster and deeper, need and desire spearing through me in a sharp burst. I tossed my head back and cracked my head against the wall, hard enough that tears came to my eyes and I lost my balance, tipping over onto my left side in an inglorious heap. Ouch. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and laughed, weakly, in between shallow gasps for breath. Like I said - this day just might kill me.

And at long last, after 7 days and 27 separate masturbation sessions, I came to the final time; # 7 for today, # 28 for the week. I settled myself comfortably in a recliner and set it to the fully reclined position, then shimmied my pants down below my knees. I hiked my shirt up a bit, also, enough that I could snake my hand under it and reach my nipples. I eased my right hand down between my legs and started stroking my clit, slowly, languidly, no rush or hurry. At the same time I used my left hand to tweak my nipples, teasing them with the pads of my fingers, lightly pinching them, drawing little circles around them. In just a few minutes, thanks to the dual stimulation, I was feeling highly aroused, past a level 8 and closing in on 9. I sighed and whimpered as my fingers danced and teased, and Master's pussy produced a new gush of slick juices. My hips bucked under my fingers, my nipples were pinched and stroked in turn, and I moaned softly as a new wave of desire flooded through me. My thoughts grew fuzzy as the level of my arousal grew, and I panted and rocked and made the chair squeak in protest. I spiraled higher, building toward climax, my heart racing and my breaths coming shallow and quick. I closed my eyes as my hips bucked up hard, once, twice, a third time, and I knew that if I continued much longer, I would cross the line, and that just would not do. Regretfully, I pulled my hands free, curling them into fists in my lap while I waited for my heart to slow and my breaths to calm. I tugged my pants back into place, and then it hit me - I was done. I had completed the task Master had set for me. I tilted my head back and smiled. And even now, a full hour later, my brain is still a bit fuzzy, and my body is humming with mid-level arousal. I am tired, worn, feeling stretched thin, but I have succeeded.

And that feels good.