i’m so horny my hands are shaking. My cunt is dripping and throbbing. My ass is clenching and unclenching around the butt plug inside it. Sex is all i can think about. Every nerve ending in my body is electrified – the touch of my shirt against my back is almost too much to stand. My Master has been playing with me today, keeping me aroused and on the edge. Making me beg Him for permission to have an orgasm tonight. i’ve been playing with myself too, pushing even farther than He demanded. Rubbing my nipples and clit as i pissed, licking my piss off my hand afterwards. i begged Him to let me put the koosh ball in my pants, and He did, but warned me that i’d better not come. i kept having to take it out. Because it was too much, i was on the edge for so long, i felt like maybe i was falling over the wrong side with all the intensity i was feeling. But i’m still insanely aroused now, so i don’t think i really did. Maybe a little bit, but not really. My cunt is on fire. My jeans are damp straight through. My fantasies get nastier and sluttier as the day goes on, until i am fantasizing about being pissed on by strangers, imagining my Master ordering me to open my mouth as 2 or 3 of them piss on my face, then when they are done, forcing me down to lick the piss from the bottom of the tub. And i’m terrified that someday He’ll make me do it, but i can’t help that the fantasy makes me so hot i want to cream in my jeans as i’m thinking of it.
Archive for April, 2008
Tell me how you know that you are my submissive, slavegirl, and pet. List ten things for me.
i know because:
i wear Your bracelet around my wrist 24/7
i dress for You every day
i am Yours to play with when and if You desire
i will do anything You ask of me, anywhere and anytime
i think of You constantly – You are in my every thought
i feel fulfilled when i serve You and please You
i am allowed orgasm only when it suits You
i am Your grateful and eager piss slut
i respect, honor and adore You
i am completely filled up and overwhelmed with love and gratitude for You as we take this journey together
Part one is here.
Saturday night we went off to a play party, arriving late with the party in full swing around us. We camped out by a cross, and when it came free, my Master bound me to it. i hadn’t been in the position long before i had to beg Him to please let me take off the 4-inch stiletto heels i was wearing – being bound on the cross the balls of my feet were taking the full force of my weight, and it was the wrong kind of pain, the kind of pain that would keep me from going where He wanted me and where i needed to be.
He began with the heavy suede flogger, and when my skin was nice and warmed up, switched to a light rubber flogger. Usually this flogger doesn’t make much of an impression on me, but that night He was catching my ass expertly with just the tips, and i began wondering if there was a new toy in the bag i didn’t know about. But i had no question of that when the next toy came out, a red sort of plastic kind of flogger that is all sting, and that i have become inordinately fond of (i used to think i preferred thud).
Then He pulled out the riding crop, and i really started writhing and arching away from the cross as best i could. And yelping. Out came the (damned) ball gag, never my favorite. This time was especially difficult, as i’d had dental work recently and the gag was really making my jaw sore. i started panicking a bit, worried that i wouldn’t be able to tell Him if something went wrong, and the pain in my jaw (like the shoes earlier) was preventing me from going deep. i twisted around and pleaded and begged with my eyes and in grunts from behind the gag, and He took it off for me. (Thank You, Master.) Then He began to really work on my ass with the crop again, using the whole length of it, not just the flap on the end. And that’s when i got to the point where all i could think about was breathing.
i’m stuck in my head a lot, and this kind of scene is one of the few things that can get me out of it. Master says He saw me go, and i wonder what that looks like from His side. i remembering yelping and arching and Him telling me three more strokes and He’d be done. i took the three more, and both wanted more and was glad He was done, which probably means it was indeed the right time to stop. He took me off the cross and walked me over to a chair, where i curled in on myself while He got me some water, then sat on His lap curling into Him until i could open my eyes and see the world again.
God, i needed that.
The standing position of the cross meant that His strokes were mostly going on the upper part of my ass. Usually i’m in a kneeling position and He focuses on the so-called “sweet spot” where ass meets thighs. (“Sweet”, my ass – that spot HURTS!) So when i knelt on the bed on Sunday for Him to take a picture after the marks had come out in full, He noticed that there was still this whole blank canvas on the bottom half, and i got my third lovely spanking of the weekend. (Thank You, Sir.)
The darkest of the marks lasted for over a week. The last couple of times we’d been together i’d been disappointed not to have marks and a sore bottom as reminders afterwards. But for whatever reason – the music, the crowd, the energy, the furniture? – we tend to play much heavier at parties than when it’s just the two of us. i don’t know, but i was glad His visit coincided with a play party, and i know He was too.
One year ago today, my Master put His collar around my neck and changed both our lives forever.
It’s been a year of ups and downs. Tremendous changes and constant growth. Huge measures of joy, and times of stress and pain too. But on the whole, i am happier than i have ever been.
In the 4 years we were together before i became His sub and slavegirl, i knew He was the love of my life. i thought i loved Him as much as it was possible to love someone. Little did i know how much more love i had to give. How much more He could draw from me along with my complete and utter devotion and submission.
i love You, Sir. Always and completely. With every fiber of my being, every breath i take, every beat of my heart. i adore You and look forward to many more years of serving You in every way You ask of me.
Enter my Master, who really does have a shoe fetish. One which He has so kindly given to me. For a long time i didn’t adopt it as my own at all, which is why it was such a surprise when i’d get those “shoe fetish” comments – i didn’t have a shoe fetish, He did, and i was merely the canvas on which He expressed it.
But today, as i put away my latest acquisition – an adorable pair of gradient-tone pink pumps that are the 20th pair of shoes acquired since i became my Master’s property – i had to face up to my own place in shoe fetish land. i’ve been begging Him for a pair (or two) of pink shoes for weeks. Lusting after them, really.
And then the other day, i was walking around the grocery store, and got to wondering why all of a sudden i was feeling really sexy and a little aroused, and then i figured it out – it was the click of my own heels, the way they clicked “slut, slut, slut” as i walked, reminding me of my place and my role.
And of the shoes’ place and role. Because, as readers of my previous shoe slut posts will note, they don’t only stay on my feet. My Master picks out a pair for me to wear every time He fucks me, so we both have something pretty to look at when my legs are up over His shoulders and He’s slamming His cock deep into my cunt. New shoes that haven’t been worn outside yet end up shoved deep into my mouth, gagging me with beauty and elegant lines. Once they’re a little more worn, i’m limited to licking the tops, which i do with relish. The flicker of my tongue on a pair of patent or leather shoes is somehow linked to my cunt, and i feel the rhythm in my clit with every lick. And then there are my fucking shoes. That what we call the pair that are set aside for those times when i am not just my Master’s slut, but His shoe-fucking slut. i can truthfully say that i’ve never looked at pointy-toe shoes the same since the first time He told me just where He intended them to go.
And now, i suspect you won’t be able to either.
It’s Fetish Friday – what’s your shoe story? Do you have a shoe fetish too? Like them on others, but can’t wear them yourself? Think they’re just a tool of the patriarchy, and wish they weren’t so damn sexy? Tell all, readers.
Ah, such a pristine bottom. But it didn’t stay pristine for long this visit. Friday night found me saying “i’m so glad You remembered that You like to hurt me today.” While we touch on lots of the letters in the BDSM alphabet, my Master is not particularly a sadist. So hurting me isn’t necessarily the driving force and need for Him that it is for some other Doms. It’s not uncommon for us to get to Saturday (having busied ourselves with other means of my showing Him my submission) before the toys come out. But while He may not be a sadist, He is a self-proclaimed response junkie, and this weekend He indulged Himself in the responses He could get by the thoughtful and enthusiastic administration of toys and hands.
It didn’t take long on Friday before i was breathing deeply and fighting to keep my legs closed as my Master spanked my cunt. After each smack, He would tell me to beg for another, and i would, begging Him to hurt me again, begging Him to hurt me harder. Licking His hand so it would hurt more when He hit me. Spreading my cunt lips so that He could bring His hand down right on my clit. Over and over.
Later, He was fucking me, my legs up over His shoulder, and He reached into the drawer and pulled out the clothespins, clipping one onto a nipple and more onto my breast around it. Flicking them as He fucked me wasn’t enough, and He reached back into the drawer and pulled out the riding crop. He brought it to my face and had me kiss it, used it on my ass, my breasts, and even my clit, all the while continuing to fuck me. Pulling off the clothespins, He rubbed the blood back into them (and the pain that comes with it) as He came inside of me.
But it wasn’t until Saturday night when i got the hard beating i had been so needing and craving, the one that turns me into a quivering heap of submissive goo. For while He is not a sadist, i am something of a masochist. (And maybe a little sadistic as well, because now i’m going to make You all wait for the next part.)
I’m glad you’re all liking the shoes so much, because you’ll get to see a lot more of them today. My Master liked them a lot too, and spent a while on Saturday photographing me wearing them. i love the photo shoots that we do. My Master is an excellent photographer, and the whole process of being photographed definitely plays into a couple of my fetishes, like objectification and exhibitionism. You’re all the lucky recipients of the exhibitionist part, so i don’t have to explain that.
And then there’s the distinct sense i get from time to time, that the shoes are the real point, and i’m merely the prop that makes them look good…