Archive for May, 2007


Office Orgasm

May 30, 2007

My Master and I were having a casual conversation over SMS, me sitting in my office, him several time zones away having dinner in another country. In between describing to me latest course in his multi-course dinner, he started giving me instructions to touch myself. My last instruction was to type up what had happened and send it to him in email.

I was amused and pleased when, in the middle of a casual discussion about dinner, you started giving me instructions to touch myself. I liked that interplay very much, the connection between who we have been to each other before and who we are now.

I petted my pussy through my pants for you. With your next instruction I undid my pants and reached in, with a finger from my right hand in my cunt and a finger from my left hand on my clit. By the time I got your instruction to make myself good and wet, I already was. Wet enough that I could hear that slutty slurpy sound of my cunt juice covered finger moving on my clit.

Although you told me to put the anal plug in the bathroom, I did it here in my office, not wanting to go away from you for so long. But then I had lube on my fingers and decided I had better wash my hands, so I went and did that. I’m getting more and more used to having the plug in my ass. It slipped in very easily, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it – quite the contrary, I was very aware of it there. I squirmed in my chair as I touched myself again, thinking about your desire to hurt me, and my desire to take that from you, to be taken by you, completely.

I stood up and rubbed myself against the corner of my desk, remembering that first time you made me do that, and how desperate I was then to have something touching my clit, how hard I tried to make myself cum that way. I was not so desperate this time, since you had been letting me touch myself.

The parallels with that first time continued when I took the yellow highlighter and inserted it into my cunt, while my fingers rubbed circles around my slippery clit. The sensation of being fucked with the plug in my ass was delightful as I sat in my chair, but I knew that if I were going to come, I should do it on my knees, on the floor, like sluts deserve. So I dropped down to my knees and soon your order came, telling me to come for you. My fingers moved faster and faster, and highlighter slipped in and out of my dripping cunt. My breath came harder and faster. I let out a few very small moans, but mostly stifled them so no one would hear me and wonder what I was doing in here. And then I came, my body shuddering, my cunt and ass clenching and unclenching around their respective invaders. I leaned into my desk to catch my breath while I texted my thank yous to you. I licked my fingers and the highlighter clean, savoring my tangy juices.

$37 dollars in international SMS charges, but Master assured me I was worth every penny. And then some.



May 30, 2007

Dear Master,

I have been a very bad submissive, and did not give you the consideration that is your due as my Master and owner. I am deeply sorry and beg for your forgiveness.

I put my own needs and desires over yours, which is something I must never do. I am yours, in body, soul, and mind, and it is my obligation to consider your needs and desires in my every action. I didn’t do that last night and I am heartsick at having disappointed you.

You are my everything – I love you always and completely. More than anything. I have promised to do anything and everything you asked of me, but then I didn’t do the one very simple thing you asked of me – to make a phone call. I thought then that it was just a small thing, but I realize now that I was a huge violation of the spirit of our agreement.

Please, please forgive me sir? Please allow me to continue to serve you, and to be your good little girl again? Being owned by you means more to me than I ever imagined it could, and the thought of losing that devastates me. I would promise to do anything you asked of me in order to make it up to you, but you already have that promise from me. And despite my recent actions, I really do mean it. I really am yours, and I really will do anything for you, anything you ask of me. No matter how painful, humiliating or degrading, if those are the things that will bring me back into your good graces again, then I will do them eagerly. Beg you for them. In just a few short days, I will be able to demonstrate that commitment to you in person, and I know that I need to do that now more than ever.

I love you, always and completely. I am so, so sorry, sir. Please let me be your good little girl again? Please let me make this up to you in any way that I can? Please teach me and guide me so that I will be better able to serve you in the future, so that I can learn better how to make my actions reflect what is truly in my heart.

sub lyn


The hottest thing I’ve ever read

May 26, 2007

When my master wrote this to me, I almost had an orgasm sitting there in my chair with no one touching me. It was, and still is, one of the absolute hottest things he’s written to me.

There will be a time when I am both fucking you, and hurting you so hard you’re crying. And the pleasure and pain will mix inside you and make you hotter and hotter and hotter. And you will look into my eyes through your tears, and come. And it will be beautiful to watch.



May 26, 2007

I was telling one of my dear friends about the way my relationship with my Master had changed, and she responded to my email with “Well it sounds fabulous from here, m’dear. I’m glad you’re having fun and fulfillment and I hope your upcoming time together is hot and delicious!”

Which are very nice sentiments, of course, but just felt totally out of sync with where my head is. Because this is certainly fulfilling, but I don’t know that I’d describe it as “fun.” Thinking about that lead me to write this email to my Master.

It’s hard to explain what this feels like on the inside without it sounding like something weird. There’s a line in the Illustrated Teacher story I sent you that talks about there being a lot about D/s that doesn’t survive the transition into words, and I find that to be very true. It’s why so many of the blogs out there are almost painful to read. It’s so hard to articulate what this is like without it sounding mean or abusive or just “why the heck would you want to do that!”

So she’s putting what I’m telling her into her context of consensual playful BDSM and intepreting it that way. And that’s fine, but just means that her responses will be a little startling for me sometimes.



May 26, 2007

A further clarification of his rules for me.

I assume that what you write is true. I know that you tend to be an open person, but it’s even more important in our case and vital when we’re not together. I assume what you write me is what’s in your head and your heart. I assume you don’t write what you think I want to hear, what you think would make a better “scene,” or what you want to think you believe. I assume you are open and honest and truthful and exposed.

At all times.



May 22, 2007

>> Tell me what you are.

> Your slut. Your sub. Yours.

>> Also my toy, my slave, and my pet.

> Yes, sir. Slut, sub, toy, slave and pet. I like being all of that to you.

>> You’re all of that to me, even when we’re apart.

> I’m especially looking forward to being that to you in person, though. I
> want your hands on me so badly it hurts.

>> I want to hurt you with my hands, too.

> Yes, sir. Please, sir. I want you to take my body, and use it for your
> pleasure. I want to feel your ownership in my flesh.

>> I want to take your body and use it. I want you to spread your legs
>> and beg to have your cunt slapped.


My sub type

May 20, 2007

We were having a conversation inspired by the Seven Types of Submissive post on Confessions of an English Gentleman, and my owner asked me which category I fell into. None of them really fit, so he asked me to write up a paragraph that would describe me.

A sub lyn wants to learn how best to please her dominant, sexually, physically, and emotionally. She doesn’t necessarily get inherent pleasure out of pain and degradation type things, but they act for her as evidence of ownership, and help prove to both her and her dom that she is learning and performing well. As does performing various rituals, such as the daily clothes description. She wants to be able to release her inhibitions and control in an environment where she feels completely safe, and finds it very psychologically satisfying to be able to do that for and with her dominant. She likes it when her dominant expresses his satisfaction with her, likes knowing that she’s made him happy, likes it when he treats her like a cherished pet, holding her and caressing her and spoiling her a bit.


The Rules

May 20, 2007

About a month after we first began, my master gave me a set of rules to govern my submission to him. I appreciated that he had given them so much time and attention, but was very happy when I got them – it made being a good sub so much easier, since I knew what was expected of me. (What’s below is actually version 2 of the rules, which I got from him on July 31, 2007.)

1. I own your sexuality, and I want to know everything that happens to it. I want to know about everything: every sexual thought, every sexual deed. In detail. Everything. This includes things about yourself, things about others, comments in your blog, websites you visit — everything.

2. I own your dress. I expect you to dress for me, within the limits of your day’s activities and schedule. Sometimes this might mean a small token, sometimes it might mean a lot. Always it means consideration. I expect you to treat this ritual with reverence, especially regarding the clothes I have purchased for you. They are mine just as you are. When you write to me about this in the morning, tell me why you have chosen what you have chosen. When we’re together, I will dress you as I please.

3. I own your orgasms. You are never to masturbate or come without permission. (Unless [spouse] initiates sex.) If you are to masturbate or come, you will receive instructions to that effect. If you don’t receive any instructions — either because I don’t send them to you or there is an e-mail issue — you are not allowed to masturbate. Whenever you masturbate, you are to do so in a way that is pleasing to me. You are to write to me about it every morning. If you cannot find time to perform — for domestic reasons — I expect you to tell me that, too.

4. If you cannot write to me about these things first thing in the morning, I expect a short e-mail telling me when I can expect your writings. Or an even shorter SMS.

5. Every night you are to spend some time on your knees thinking about my ownership of you. You are to write about it in the morning when you write about your masturbation. Again, if you cannot find the time for domestic reasons, tell me.

6. You are to carry your smart balls and your anal plug with you at all times, within practical limits. If you don’t have them, I expect a good explanation. I suggest you buy a second pair, so one is always in your purse.

7. When you receive instructions via e-mail or SMS, you are to carry them out immediately, given the reality of your day. I expect to hear details when you are done, and an explanation of when you can do them if you cannot.

8. You are to practice in your highest heels regularly. You should expect to have to walk in them when we’re together, and I expect you to walk properly and gracefully.

9. It’s hard for me to know you when we’re apart, so I expect you to communicate more. When you feel particularly owned, or submissive, or sexual, or loved, tell me. If you’re not on e-mail, an SMS will suffice. The tone of your e-mails are to reflect your status.

10. When we are together, I own you completely and totally. I control everything about you. You are my slut, my slave, and anything else I want you to be. You will do everything I ask without question or hesitation, both in private and in public. I don’t yet know what form this ownership and control will take, but it is mine to decide.


Fantasy: Beep

May 19, 2007

I drive up in front of the airport hotel, take a deep breath, and get out of the car. As I hand my keys to the valet, I notice him look me up and down. Appreciatively, I hope.

What he’s looking at are the 4-inch micro stiletto black patent heels, seamed stockings, short black skirt, and tight red blouse that you’ve told me to wear when I meet you today. I try to look confident and sexy as I walk down the ramp then ride the escalator down to the hotel lobby, but I know that every man I pass is checking out my legs, my ass. Heck, probably half the women are too, at least the ones who aren’t busy trying to avert their husband’s wandering eyes from looking at me. With every glance, every sweep of the eyes down, then up, then down again, my face gets a little bit more red.

I’m relieved to sit down in the lobby, where – although I might still be on display – at least I’m no longer a moving target. You’ve already texted me to say you’re off the plane, so I wait where I can see the security gate, expecting to meet you on the way down.

And I wait. And wait some more. Eventually my cell phone beeps with an SMS.

> You’d look sexier if you’d stop slouching.

I look around, trying to spot you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Clearly you’d gotten there before I did, or come around the other way, or something. I sit up straighter, breasts out, tummy in, putting on a show for you.


> That’s better. But I want to see your legs. Get up and walk over to the gift shop, do some browsing. Leave your suitcase behind.

I stand up, tugging down that short skirt, and walk over to the gift shop. I’m still trying to figure out where you are, and not paying attention to what I’m doing, and my heel pops out of one of the shoes. I stop, readjust, and hope you didn’t see me.

The gift shop is filled with the usual airport reading material, and I pick up a copy of Cosmo, lured in by the promise of “20 Ways to Make Your Man Take Charge in the Bedroom.” Although this is clearly not an area where I need tips.


> You haven’t been practicing in your shoes, have you? You’ll be punished for that later. Go sit back down.

I put the magazine back in the rack and walk back across the lobby, with – fortunately – no missteps this time. Sitting there, I look around again – over to the restaurant, up to the balconies, but still I don’t see you. It’s at once maddening and arousing. I love knowing you’re watching me, and I feel your eyes on my body like a caress.


> Okay, let’s try this again. Back to the gift shop, and this time, do it right.

I wonder what the front desk staff are thinking of my little parade route, but I don’t hesitate, and head across the lobby to the gift shop again. My heels click as I walk across the hard floor. Each click reminds me that I’m your slut. With each step, I feel my pussy get wetter, with the anticipation of seeing you, being used by you, serving you.

Safely in the gift shop, I pick up another women’s magazine, this one promising “10 Secrets to Pleasing Your Man.”


> Much better. That’s a good little slut.


> There’s a key in your name at the desk. Meet me in room 866.


> Be ready to be fucked.


Fantasy: A good morning

May 15, 2007

In my dream, my legs are up over your shoulders and you’re fucking me. Harder, deeper, and soon I feel an orgasm sneaking up in my sleep. I’m surprised – these wet dreams happen to me from time to time, but not since you’ve been keeping me so deliciously used. Even asleep, I don’t forget that I am not to come without your permission, and my sleepy subconscious suddenly starts fully awake.

But the sensation doesn’t go away, and I realize that it’s your hand at my clit that’s driving this orgasm, not my dream fuck. Startled, I try to pull away, but you place your arm across my chest, pinning me to the bed.

“Oh, good,” you say, “you’re awake.” Your finger is still rubbing my clit, but my orgasm has retreated in the face of my confusion. “I woke up and saw you sleeping there, and you looked so pretty, sleeping in your collar, that I couldn’t keep my hands off of you.”

My hands go up to my throat, and feel the collar there. It was my first night sleeping with it on, and I’m amazed that I could sleep so deeply with it that I wouldn’t notice you touching me until I was about to come.

“Thank you, sir. Good morning, sir,” I yawn sleepily. My yawn is cut off by a probing kiss, and with your tongue in my mouth and your finger on my clit, my mounting orgasm soon returns from its temporary retreat. Your other hand strays to my nipple, pinching and flicking and stroking.

“Sir, if you keep doing that,” I gasp, from around your darting tongue, “I’m going to come.”

Instantly you stop. Hands, tongue, all gone in a flash. “We can’t have that,” you say. “Sluts need to earn their orgasms, and so far all you’ve done this morning is look pretty. That’s hardly worthy of an orgasm.”

A moan of frustration passes through my lips.

“Come here, little slut,” you say to me, pulling my face down to your erect cock, “Show me how much you want to come.”

I start off licking the head of your cock, then run my tongue from the tip to the base, pausing to lick your balls as well. Then back up to the top, and this time I take you in my mouth. But just a little bit, just the head, with my tongue circling it. Then it’s back to licking, nibbling and kissing, but this time I add my hands, one on the base of your cock, the other on your balls. I take you in my mouth again, a little deeper this time. My head moves up and down on your cock, and with each downward motion I swallow more of it, until my nose is in your public hair and your cock is in my throat.

So far you’ve been content letting me run the show, but I knew that wouldn’t last, and you shift me into a better position, one where you can drive. I grab a pillow to support my neck, and then just try to keep up as you fuck my face. “Oh, that’s right, that’s a good little mouth slut,” you tell me, and I work even harder to please you, to do it just as you like.

You pull out of my mouth.

“That was very good,” you say. “You’re really working hard for your orgasm today. You must really want it. Tell me how you want it.”

“Please sir, please fuck me? Please let me come with you in my slutty cunt?”

And then it’s like it was in my dream – my legs up over your shoulder as you fuck me harder, deeper. My finger is moving furiously on my clit as you drive into me. My breaths are shuddering gasps, interspersed with moans and wails of desire. And then I’m there, on the precipice of my orgasm, heading over fast.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, please sir, please, please may I come, please may I come for you?”

“Yes,” you command me. “Do it. Do it now. Come for me.” I orgasm with a scream, and a few thrusts later, you come too, shooting your semen deep inside me. You collapse on top of me, and we lie there in a sweaty pile of tangled limbs, while we slowly catch our breath.

“Good morning, love,” you say to me.

“And a very good morning to you too, sir,” I answer back.