His Care

January 21st, 2018

And sometimes, I need for him to take care of me, when I’m striving too hard to take care of him. As per the last post, I was stressing myself out massively over the events this weekend, and more. I talked to him a bit about it after posting. And we both reminded me that, among other things I need to let go of attachment to a specific outcome, and everything being perfect. It isn’t a failure if other people don’t show up. We will make due.

So, the next night I took some time, Specifically, to Let Go. I sat down in my papasan of soft, and meditated and let go. This reduced my stress about the weekend, and I was able to let myself go with the flow. Things didn’t go perfectly, not everyone showed up, and it was Okay.

On top of that, he offered me a scene on Saturday. I knew he had a lot lined up, so I went into it with no expectations, and, as usual, he knew what I needed and far exceeded any expectations I could have had.

He started with a warm-up spanking of my ass, and then some nice rhythmic flogging. Into harder flogging and faster, building up my moans to groans to occasional screams. I had side thoughts of my body being unused to this, and mild concern my skin would not hold out terribly long. But it didn’t have to, after a song or two, he ran his fingers along my skin, making me shiver and moan. Then dragged me by the hair to the spanking bench.

Where we really got down to work. Hand spanking, foam bat, leather paddle, and a gods-be-damned hard plastic hot spoon. Spanking to the music, setting me into happy space. Foam bat was a nice transition, only becoming painful after a while. Leather paddle started the screams and writhing, as he used his free arm and chest to hold me to the bench. Then the spoon brought the tears, first of frustration, I knew he wasn’t actually hitting me that hard with it, but DAMN it stung. “Let it out.”  I hear him say, and the tears did flow.

Crying and screaming and legs writhing as my body is pinned and the hits keep coming. Until we settle a little bit into some spanking again. Then he comes and checks in. Am I good or do I want more. I don’t think I managed to say anything, but he nodded, More.

And I’m screaming and crying harder than before. I hear someone comment they’ve never heard me make those sounds. It Has been quite a while… Sobbing into the bench. I hear them discuss how many big hits I should have to count. But I’m not there, yet. He continues to paddle and smack with the spoon, and spank with his bare hand until I’m able to make words again.

I’ve traveled through the catharsis fully now, and I try to count spoon strikes. He laughs, no, not that one. He picks up the paddle again, and I count. Up to Seventeen, I think, or was it Twenty. Screaming each number, but no longer crying. I have come through the pain, and cried out the stress, covering the spanking bench in my tears.

When I finish, he spanks me a little bit more, happy slaps on a very red ass. Then comes back to my head, where I thank him, so very much. And he counts me twice to orgasm to land me back in my body. Where I sit for a few moments before I’m able to stand and clean up, ready for the rest of the night.

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Scattered Thoughts

June 3rd, 2010

Public Humiliation – I knelt on his boot, surrounded. They talked of friendship and history and alcohol. Or they were, before I landed on his boot. I could not really hear them, after. He ground it into me, a stern look keeping me in place. I rode the old black leather, trying to keep my tight denim skirt covering me. His hand on his knee, one finger, two fingers. I glanced up at him in a panic, he grinned. “You better.” Three fingers and I did. Eyes closed, people casually chatting around me, I did. Over and over again, slave to his counting fingers. Mortified, terrified, aroused and his.

Begging – Please. Please, no. It’s never enough. Offer something else. But how do you offer something else when he’s clearly enjoying himself? How do you offer something else when your brain is locked in fear? How do you offer something else when you don’t want him to stop, but you’re too scared to be silent? Begging will make him happy. It is what he is asking you to do. If you don’t want to offer something else, ask for what you are afraid of.

Creativity – Something new. Always something new. Take what you have done and push it one step further. Take a great scene and add to it. Take your fear one extra step. What have you not yet done? What are you afraid of?

Fear – Hand to my throat. Tensing, gasping, internal struggle to be still. I love it when he holds me down by my throat. Stun gun. Whimpering more when he threatens than when it hits. Twitching more at the noise than the shock. Crying, begging. Fear of the pain stronger than the pain itself. Nylon hood. I like the hood. Duct taped around my throat, not too tight. I was fine, the whole scene went well. We were done. PANIC! Instant full body panic as he lay on top of me. Shaking, gasping, crying, thrashing. 1-2-3. Focus moved to an orgasm and calm returns.

Poly – Love is not divided, instead it grows. Communication does not prevent jealousy, but it can help to resolve it. Poly is not for everyone, it isn’t easy, and there is no one right way. You can’t tell someone how to “do poly” only how it works for you. The Ethical Slut provides some good insight, language and tools for any relationship.

I am still tired from the con this past weekend. Sorry about the randomness of this post. I’ll pull something more coherent together for next week.

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All orgasms are not created equal.

August 5th, 2009

Years ago, I began to learn orgasm control. I had Doms who required me to ask permission before orgasming, and I picked it up fairly quickly. About a year ago, I began learning to orgasm on command and to control them. To make them soft, or hard, to keep going or to stop short, depending on what was demanded of me. To even have orgasms, if commanded, in the middle of a crowded restaurant with very little stimuli other than his voice. Above all, to not orgasm without express permission while I am with him, no matter what. (No one has yet tried to control my activities when I am alone.)

All this considered, it is not to say that every commanded or permitted orgasm is equal. They are not all as intense or satisfying. I still get reliably better orgasms from fingers or tongue(depending on the wielder of such) than from intercourse. I can have incredibly intense orgasms out of painful pleasure, and softly satisfying ones from sex. That is not to say I don’t have great sex, or even occasional great orgasms during sex. It all depends on build up, mood and balancing everything just so.

A word about how I’ve been trained, as some people find it very interesting. I’ve been trained to orgasm on the count of three. Some people like to play with this, randomly counting to three, but it doesn’t work like that. As with many things in life and the scene, it is the intention behind the words and the control taken by the speaker and given by me. It is also a very vocal trigger at this point. I was recently asked if counting by showing fingers would work. I suppose I could learn to work off that as a trigger, but it is very much connected to the sound right now. I like to hear the words, the emotions and the command in his voice.

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