Fun Times Don’t Have to be Big

August 25th, 2016

He decided we should play on Saturday. I’d offered on Friday, but we were all much too busy with the crowd.

He walked up to where I was sitting, and slapped me. I gasped and gazed up at him, and he leaded me over to the flogging station. The nice old mop floggers were his weapon of choice. Starting out low and slow, getting me nodding and rocking to the beat. Switching up to six-count to get my whole body moving. And then the heavy strikes, shoving me forward into gasping groans and screams. Riding up and down a few waves, to crest in louder screams.

“Are you awake now?” Yes. “What?” Yes. “What?” Yes, Sir.

Then he had me over his knee, pulling up the bottom of my fishnet dress, as I clutched the chair and balanced my toes. Spanking me, hard and stinging, solid and thuddy, punching and slapping, making me squeal and scream, and moan. Counting me up. Thank you, Sir.

Then he shoved me to the floor. And I lay there, gasping for breath. Looking up at his glittering eyes, and wide grin. I love you. “I love you, too.”  Finally catching my breath, I reach out to clutch the toe of his boot. The cool floor feels good. Calming. He grins down, asking me questions I no longer remember. Then he mentions getting a paddle.

I whimper as he helps me up, and puts me back up at the rig. He grabs the sorority paddle we snagged from a thrift shop years ago. “That was for you, this is for me.” His eyes are still sparkling as he lines up, and bends me over.

I clutch the cold metal poles, my dress falling back down, as he smacks into my ass. Screaming with every strike, rising up and then settling back down. Trying to keep my ass even instead of cocked to one side. He tries to imprint the Greek letters into my flesh. I scream louder and louder, flinching even when he doesn’t strike.

“One. Two…. THREE!” I scream louder than ever, orgasming through the pain.

Thank you, Sir, I gasp out as I finish.

 

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April Fools Day

April 1st, 2016

I’ve seen a few amusing stories today, a few good memes, and the usual roundup of new, amusing products from ThinkGeek. I don’t know that I’ve ever really taken this day to heart. I’m not a practical joker, I’m just sarcastic. But I noticed I haven’t posted in a while, so I figured, day aside, why not?

The new job(s) are filling my weekdays, and starting Sunday, half my weekend, too. It will be very good for me, financially. But I’m still working on finding a work-life-food-sleep balance. This coming week will be my first full, six-day workweek. I’ve gotta do better at lunch.

On the kinky side of things. I keep having thoughts of stuff to write late at night, I try to put notes in my bedside notebook, but they don’t make as much sense in the morning light.

We’ve got Wednesday nights again, and we’ve had some good flogging and whip practice here and there. I’ve had a balloon bondage scene on the burner ever since Wickedness, but the young lady and I haven’t quite managed to sync up yet.

I had an awesome spanking/paddling with him this past FFF.  Another friend was down to visit and they played, and then he pulled me down over them both. It was a very good night. We had other friends come out, as well, and there were more snuggles and hair playing. Want more like that. 🙂

This weekend I’m up with the boy, for some nice naked time, relaxing, and orgasms. As we both work on convincing the other of his/her attractiveness. 😉

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Have You Been Naughty?

July 16th, 2015

She fidgeted with the hem of her short skirt. Too short, by strict reading of the rules, but no one ever bothered her about it. No one minded that she showed a bit too much leg, kept her shirt unbuttoned a little too far, flirted a bit too easily. Not until today, that is. Today she had been called to the headmaster’s office of this private, all-girls college, that her parents had shipped her off to last fall. She would be safe there, they had thought, safe from the temptations of boys, and the dangers of alcohol. She wondered sometimes, if her parents had any clue about the real world.

“Excuse me, Miss.” The sharp tone pulled her out of her thoughts and she glanced up. From the thin, tight lips and the narrowed eyes, she was certain it was not the first time the secretary had tried to get her attention.

“Sorry.” She mumbled and stood up, as the woman motioned her towards the office.

“Close it.” The headmaster did not look up as she entered, and she pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind her, cutting off all sound from the outer offices.

She hesitated by the door for a moment, then straightened her shoulders and walked forward to stand before the large wooden desk. He still had not looked at her, his eyes focused on the computer screen on the right side of the desk. She clasped her hands behind her back to keep herself from pulling at her skirt again, and waited.

She focused on the edge of his desk, not wanting to stare at him, needing to keep her mind from wandering too far afield again. Why was she here? The professor had not said. He had been given a note in the middle of his lecture, and, when it was over, had told her she was to report here immediately. She had not broken any rules today, nor yesterday. Sure, she had broken a few over the weekend, but why summon her today, then? It wasn’t like she had done anything new last weekend, and she did not remember being seen sneaking back into the dorm. Had someone else gotten caught? She hadn’t heard about it. Did someone rat her out? Who would…

“Miss Gruenwald.” She managed not to jump when he finally spoke, startling her out of her ever deepening spiral of thought.

“Yes, Sir.” She raised her eyes to meet his.

“Do you know why you’re here, today, Katherine?”

“No, Sir.”

“Are you sure?” He arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No, Sir. I mean, I don’t know why, today, Sir. I mean…” She stopped short and took a breath.

“You mean that you’ve broken so many rules over the last six months, that you’re not sure which one has brought you here today?”

“Yes, Sir. I mean, no, Sir. I…” She flush bright red and dropped her gaze to the floor as he laughed.

“Katherine, you don’t seem to know what you mean. But I do, I hear things, you know, all sorts of things. Being the headmaster of an all-girls college, I’d wager, is the best place to hear the most interesting stories. Most of them I ignore, girls out on their own for the first time, having harmless fun. But sometimes, Katherine, it goes over the line, and I have a responsibility to the parents who pay my salary, to protect their daughters from themselves. To correct certain behavior, and yes, sometimes to… punish… the girls under my care.”

The way he said punish, with a pause before, and again for a breath after, sent a shiver down her spine, and her flush deepened. He had stopped speaking, but she could not bring herself to look at him. Not yet. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Then lifted her gaze back above the desk, to his thick hands clasped before him, his tie, his collar, up to his face, and then met his eyes.

“That’s better. Now, why don’t you tell me about last weekend? Ah! Don’t drop your eyes. Look at me, and tell me about Saturday night.”

“I… Yes, Sir.” She cleared her throat, and began again. “I went into town to see a movie, Sir. Alone.”

“Alone?”

“I mean, I left here alone, Sir. I was meeting someone, a boy, Sir.” He nodded and she went on. “We met up at the theater, had popcorn and soda, and after he walked me most of the way back to campus. It was late, so I climbed up the fire escape and in the window to get back in.”

“I know all of that, Katherine. Tell me what I don’t know.” The flush had been receding, and now came back full force. “Yes, that’s it, those thoughts are what I want to know.”

“The movie was boring, and there were only a couple other people there, all the way at the bottom row. We were up top. So, we made out some…” She trailed off, glancing away.

“Look at me, Katherine.” She pulled her gaze back to his. “Go on…”

“Yes, Sir. We, I mean, he… I…” She stopped and took another breath. “The movie was really terrible, Sir. We did more than just kissing. Eventually, I even went down on him.”

“You sucked his cock in the middle of a movie theater, Katherine?”

“Yes, Sir.” She clenched her jaw to keep from looking away.

“Say it.”

“I sucked his cock in the movie theater, Sir.”

“Did you swallow?”
“Yes, Sir, what?” She was so flustered, she answered without thinking about what he had said.

“Good girl.”

Her mouth fell open, but she could not think what to say, so she closed it again.

“Then what?”

“He…uh… we left after the movie to come back here.” He nodded, and she was glad he did not want any more details of their movie make-out session.

“What happened on the way back here?”

“We… he… He wanted to thank me for the blow job. So, we stopped for a bit in the softball dugout on the edge of campus.”

“And…” He prompted.

“And… first he put me over his knee, and spanked me, Sir.”

“Spanked you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why?”

“Because I like it, Sir.”

“Tell me about the spanking, Katherine.”

“He pulled me over his knee, lifted my skirt up, and yanked my panties down. Told me I was a very naughty girl for sucking his cock in a public theater. And that I needed to be punished. Then he spanked my bare ass with his hand. He spanked me until I begged him to stop.”

“If you like it, why did you beg him to stop?”

“Because I wanted him to fuck me, Sir. And he did, Sir, we had sex on the dugout bench.”

“I see. Well, he was right, you are a very naughty girl, and you definitely need… punished.”

He did it again, that pause for emphasis that made her shiver, this time it also made her a little wet.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Say it.”

“I’m a very naughty girl, Sir, and I need to be punished.”

“Good girl.”

“Would you like it if I punished you, Katherine?”

She bit her lip, not sure how to answer, but nodded anyway.

“I won’t fuck you like your boyfriend did, but I do want to spank that bare ass of yours.” He stood up and pointed at the front of his desk. “Bend over and brace yourself. Count for me, and say thank you.” He came around the desk and she spread her legs for balance and bent over.

He lifted her too-short skirt, laying it over her back. Then hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and pulled them halfway down her thighs. Placing one hand on the small of her back, he left out a soft noise of appreciation.

“Ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Smack.

“One. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Two. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Three. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Four. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Five. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Six. Thank you, Sir.”

Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten… on and on the smack of his hand against her bare ass. She counted and thanked him for each one. Moaning out the numbers by the time he reached the teens. Dripping wet by the time he got to twenty. Desperate by the time he got to thirty.

“Oh, please, Sir.”

“Please, what?”

“May I orgasm, Sir?”

“No.”

Smack.

“Thirty-one. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-two. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-three. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-four. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-five. Thank you, Sir. Please, Sir.”

“No.”

Smack.

“Thirty-six. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-seven. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-eight. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Thirty-nine. Thank you, Sir.”

Smack.

“Forty. Thank you, Sir.”

He stopped, pulled her panties back up, and her skirt back down. Then went back around to his chair and sat down.

“Miss Gruenwald, you will return to your room now, you will not masturbate or orgasm for a week, and you will not leave campus again without permission, is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” She reeled away from his desk, stopping at the door to gather her balance and her composure. “Thank you, Sir.”

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All the Ideas

June 13th, 2015

I keep having all these thoughts about what to blog about when I’m not sitting at the computer nor able to write them down. Then it is several days before I get to a place where I have the time to blog, and I’ve forgotten what I wanted to write about, or I’ve lost the spark of the idea.

Ideas I can remember having lately:

  • lupaste – the wolf in me honors the wolf in you

I am not an alpha, don’t want to be an alpha, or is that just fear? I like being the beta, not in charge, but able to help, and step up temporarily when needed. I am the support staff to his leadership. And I like it that way.

  • Animal attraction – monkey brain just doesn’t listen

Is there someone in your life, that while a relationship never worked, or would not work – but that it takes real conscious focus to avoid curling up naked with? Who, when left alone with, you forget the rest of the world, if you’re not careful? Where the physical attraction is blinding to consequences? An addiction that never goes away.

  • body hair – natural, trimmed, shaved, or waxed

Why is important? Why do people care what others do? Why do we put hot wax on our tender bits and then rip the hair out by the roots? Who decided that was the thing to do?

  • Poly – labels and primaries and secondaries and time and money and commitment

Change is a constant, we like to say. Relationships change over time, people change over time, priorities change over time. There is so much grief in trying to hold anything in a static state. With placing a label on something in the hopes that it won’t ever change. But we are always changing, always growing, and the labels don’t have to define you. You can define them.

  • Fear in new relationships –

So much fear involved when a new relationship starts – fear of replacement, fear of not being accepted, fear of being accepted and then rejected. Fear of unequal interest. But it is so worth stepping through the fear. Accepting your feelings and going forward anyway. Love is worth some pain, even if you’re not a masochist.

  • Spanking – it’s not about the pain

I’ve had this conversation several times in the last few months. Yes, I’m a masochist. Yes, I like intense sensation. Yes, I like hard and heavy spankings. But that’s not the only thing that turns me on about spanking. Spankings for me are a huge Mental turn on. The Idea turns me on. Thinking about being spanked, thinking about being naughty and therefore spanked. It’s the naughty schoolgirl fantasy that turns me on. It’s that fantasy that I masturbate to – I don’t spank myself, I just imagine about it. Sometimes part of the fantasy includes imagining telling someone about it, and that turns me on just as much. So, yes, if you smack my ass because I’m being naughty, it will turn me on no matter how hard or light you hit my ass.

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The Best Scene I Couldn’t Ask For

March 8th, 2015

The night started out fairly normal. I’d asked to spend time bootblacking, and he’d even brought an extra pair of boots. He was wearing his new knee-high boots, still fresh and mostly clean. I I just did a basic saddle-soap clean. Rubbing his feet and calves with brush and fingers and micro-fiber. A massage to get him relaxed and shiny for the night. He had things to do, so he left me with his work boots. These got the full laces-out, saddle-soap, and Black Gold treatment. He took them out to the truck when I was done, they were not needed tonight. I was spending the night in service to him, but when he got back, we would have a scene first.

“Pick out a piece of furniture for me to beat you with this.” He handed me the burlap/bamboo stick of awesome.

I walked about a bit, there were a couple open benches and crosses. I hovered near the larger of the two benches, with an eye on a cross, not sure of his intentions. When he returned, I motioned to the bench and pointed to the cross.

“Bench.”

So, I knelt on the bench, legs only having just recovered from the bootblacking, but this was kneeling up instead of down, so I’d be fine. I lay forward and he pulled out a piece of rope. Happy surprise. I haven’t been tied down to a bench in years. Left wrist first, pulled it down to a good place for me to grip and tied in through one of the holes, then over to the right wrist, down to another hole. Then he pulled out the short bit of bamboo.

Damn, bamboo gag, alright, I tell myself, don’t forget to bite down while he’s tying. In it goes and I grab it hard with my teeth, he ties it in good and tight, and then pulls the rope down my back. What the? Interesting. I keep my head down, not wanting to strain my neck and throat by having my head tied back. He takes it down to my waist, knots it and then splits the ropes, effectively tying my waist down to the bench. Nice.

I’m drooling already. Ugh! Stupid gag drooling. Ah well, nothing to be done about it. And it makes him happy to take that control from me. Time for the beaty stick.

Gods that burlap wrapped bamboo feels awesome. He beats my ass a few times, lands a few blows on my back. As long as I remember to breathe out when he hits my back, it’s all good. Otherwise it knocks it out of me anyway. I arch my ass up, keeping tailbone clear as he swings. Moaning happily around my gag.

Then he puts it down for a moment, and starts in with his bare hand. And I’m soaring, heart and body. I love spanking, I’ve been wanting a spanking. On a spanking bench even. But it is one of those things, one of those very sexual things for me, that I am still very embarrassed to ask for. Oh, but he knows me so well.

Some more beating stick, some more spanking, his hand sneaks up and slides under me, grabbing a nipple and making me scream. I’m writhing and moaning and soaring, and drooling. So much drooling. He comes round in front of me and just grins. More beatings and spankings. He grabs me by the hair, lifting my head back, using his free hand to wipe up my drool and smear it all over my face. Ugh, so messy. And then he’s beating my ass again. Gods I love him.

Spanking and beating, and nipple pinching. I’m moaning and screaming and writhing and drooling and dripping.

He pulls out a paddle, pulling louder screams and harder writhing. He wipes my drool all over my face again and again. There is more bare-handed spanking and more beaty stick. One hand reaches under me and lifts me up by the throat. I don’t even know what he’s hitting me with at this point, as I soar higher and higher.

The devil pop is out. He is in front of me, grinning that huge grin.

“Time for your penance. What do you think? Twenty?”

My eyes grow wide and all I can manage is whimpering. I owe him, for not being prepared, for not having a skirt the night before. Fuck. Yes. Anything, for all he has given me. I twist my hands around so I am now grabbing the rope instead of the bench. Digging the fibers into my hands, anchoring. But I cannot speak, I nod.

“Twenty?” I nod again. “You can’t say no to this grin can you?” I shake my head. “You better hold on. Ten for each cheek.” I whimper, laying my head down in my puddle of drool, clinging to the rope. “Ten on the flat side and ten on the rounded.” He goes back behind me.

The devil pop lands and I am screaming. He alternates cheeks and I alternate kicking my legs straight out. The first ten go fairly quickly. Five on each cheek, I barely have time for individual screams. The creator of the pop is called by my screams and they laugh above me.

The next ten are slower. Each hit pulling a scream all its own. Writhing and arching, until I can calm and reset myself. He waits for each one. Letting me scream it out.

Twenty strikes complete. I am pushing the gag forward with my tongue so I can swallow and get a breath. I don’t even remember if he spanked me any more after that.

Then he was untying the gag and I almost forgot to bite down. Put my jaw back in place as he untied my wrists.

“You’re such a mess.” We’re both grinning at each other. “Dripping wet at both ends. You good?”

“Very good, thank you!” I am flying high all night long, as I kneel or stand ready with the beaty stick, helping with or just observing his other scenes. So very grateful for all we have together.

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Happy Birthday!

July 26th, 2014

I had a great birthday dinner with friends on Thursday evening. So glad he suggested it, and I didn’t let my sleepy brain reject the idea. More than twenty of us descended on a local Outback and had a great time eating, chatting and sliding our chairs around. (Mostly he slid his and my chairs around.) Was good to hang out with people just for the fun of it.

Feeling a bit down this evening, so putting on Dirty Dancing, to be followed by Footloose if I don’t fall asleep, to cheer myself up, 80s style. Just can’t seem to wake up today.

Club didn’t happen for crew last night, too many people ill or out of commission. I”ve been given a raincheck on my birthday spankings, though. So, no harm done, and I got to chat with folks I wouldn’t have otherwise. Month and a half until COPE, so far we’re planning on an inch-worm race. Should be very entertaining.

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The Kilt and a Prom Dress

October 19th, 2013

He wore his kilt! Finally! In public even. And he looked awesome. I wore my old prom dress, bright red, sleeveless and down to my ankles, with black thigh-high stockings and the old red heels. The engineer in a pretty sprarkly blue dress finished out our trio. I wore mine because he promised to cut it off, I’d been trying to plan that kind of scene for years, and it was worth the wait.

 

I was sitting with a group, to the side of the stage when he came over, big knife in hand. He grabbed some fabric in my lap and sliced it down through the hem. I must have move, because his finger slipped over the hilt and he cut himself on the back corner of the blade. Not bad enough to stop the scene, mentions of the first aid kit were made, but he dragged me up and out to the middle of the stage.

Circling like a shark, he grabbed bits of cloth and slice through. A shoulder strap fell to the floor, the other was sliced, but still lay across my shoulder, keeping the dress in place. Back cleared, the knife tip made a few light passes on skin. Delicious. Down to the skirt again. Stockings, too? Whatever you want. And the knife slid through nylon and tore through elastic. Bit by bit, the dress and stockings were shredded. Until it finally slid to the floor, and was tossed aside.

Still circling, he spoke to the crowd of another thing he loved about his big knife. Smack across my ass. Yelping and he continued to smack. Spinning because I had nothing to brace against, he kept circling for a bit. Then grabbed hold, braced himself and pulled me over his knee. I flailed and squirmed and squealed, trying to find balance and he paddled my ass. Finally giving up and slumping over his knee, he paddled harder, til I slid to the floor.

Kneeling now. He continued to circle, and I lose continuity. He cut loose a bit of remaining stocking, grabbed me around the throat a moment and then tied it round my right breast. Then beat on it with the knife while I screamed. Smacked my inner thighs a few times for good measure, too.

He tore up my dress with his hands, making a long strip and gagged me with it. Holding me still, he drug the knife across my back, in slow stripes. I whimpered after he finished each one, afraid to move while the blade touched me. Then he pulled me backwards, held me tight and cut the gagging strips away.

He was up again, grabbing bits of the dress, circling around behind. Nervous, but not moving, I waited. He tried snapping a piece, like a whip, but it was too light and not shaped right. So he knotted it instead, and it made a nice bludgeon. Far heavier than I thought that dress could become. He beat my back while I arched happily into it. Then around to my thighs. More screaming and squirming. Ow! Wooden floor hurts the top of my feet.

There was also the kicking. Booted feet, kicking my thighs further apart, kicking my crotch and my inner thighs. He pointed down at his boot once, and I kissed it and then moved forward to kneel on it, not sure which he intended. Then there was more kicking, and grinding of the boot heel into my thigh.

He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the wall, pulling me up, he had to give a verbal command to get me to my feet. Then he pinned me to the wall, spanking my ass while I yelped and writhed. 1. 2. 3. Orgasming in sudden stillness. I barely mumbled Thank you, Sir, before I was tossed back to the ground.

Kneeling again, dizzy and breathless. He knelt behind me, grabbing me tight, and I think there were a few more scratches across my back. Then he bent my head back and kissed me. I smiled up at him and kissed him again. So happy.

 

I cleaned up and discovered I had put the bodice with garter straps in the wrong bag, put on my red fishnet thigh-highs anyway, and wandered for a bit. He asked if I needed anything, and I said when I got cold, I’d probably want to borrow his jacket. He gave me his black button-up shirt instead. Perfect. About the time he started negotiating with the engineer for her scene, he tossed me into the circle shackles to keep my buzz going all night long.

Edit: There was also face slapping during this scene, but I still can’t remember where it fit into the rest, not that the last few paragraphs are in very good order, but still. I kinda lose my brain when he slaps me, right down into subspace in an instant. So very, very tasty and lovely, but it wreaks havoc on my memory and sense of time.

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Monday Morning Microgasm

June 3rd, 2013

He tossed her over his knee, lifted up her skirt and yanked down her panties.

“Count them.”

He smacked her bare ass with his broad hand.

“One.” Smack “Two.” Smack “Three…”

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No Fighting

January 17th, 2013

 They led her, one on each side, down the dock. It was humiliating, but it was nothing compared to what would come next. She’d been caught trying to pick a fight again and he was not going to be happy. She could feel him watching her, those piercing eyes boring into the top of her skull. She kept her head down all the way there, even when they stopped and she felt him land in front of her, having lept off his perch.

 “What now?” he asked her guards.

 “Your girl’s picking fights again. Two this time, tried to get one of them to be a lookout.”

 He flipped a quarter to each of them. “Tell them thank you, and she’ll be around to apologize later.”

 They nodded and left her there.

 “Look at me Krys.” His voice was hard as stone.

 She lifted her eyes to his, and could not help but take a step back at the anger shining there.

 “What do you think you’re doing? You know they aren’t allowed to fight you.”

 She dropped her eyes, and he slapped her, just hard enough to bring her attention back to him, and loosen her tongue.

 “They think I’m weak, sir. They don’t respect me. I’m just your girl, not one of them.”

 “And this is how you think to earn their respect? By getting them in trouble with me? By tempting them to disobey direct orders? Did you ever think that it’s only making them think less of you? Keeping you apart from them?”

 She stared at him, he was right, of course he was.

 “You want to fight someone, you fight me.” He stepped in close, so that they were nose to nose. “Do you want to fight with me?”

 “No, sir.”

 “Then, knock it off, because next time, you won’t have a choice.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 He pointed to a nearby crate that was about waist high, and she went over to it, her face flushing with embarrassment. She bent over, putting her palms on the top of the crate and spreading her feet to brace herself. He joined her, putting his left hand on the small of her back and hefting his walking stick in the other.

 Crack.

 “One.”

 Crack.

 “Two.”

 Crack.

 “Three.”

 By five, there were tears, by ten she could barely get the numbers out, by fifteen she was wet, and by twenty she was fighting back moans. He grabbed her hair and pulled her back upright, then marched her away, his grip on her hair keeping her fully aroused.

 “You will apologize to those two, when we’re done.” he whispered in her ear.

 “Yes, sir.”

 He led her off to the warehouse loft where they always went after he punished her publicly, or to punish her privately. Today had required a public scene, but it didn’t always. When they arrived he released her.

 “Pants off, hands and knees.” He said to her, voice softer now, hungry.

 “Yes, sir.” She stripped off her pants and got down on all fours.

 He knelt down beside her, stroking her bruised ass.

 “Why do you do these things? You know I hate to embarrass you like that.”

 “I’m sorry, sir.” she shivered at his gentle strokes.

 “Promise me you won’t do that again?”

 “Yes, sir, I promise.”

 “Good, girl.” He smacked her bare ass with his hand. “Very good, girl.” He smacked her ass again.

 “Thank you, sir.” she gasped.

 He spanked her bare, bruised ass, while she moaned. Bringing them both back to full arousal after the scolding. Squeezing and spanking her tender ass, while she arched and and groaned. He dipped his fingers lower, finding her dripping wet.

 “Do you want me?” he breathed

 “Yes, sir, oh yes, sir.”

 “Show me.” he said, dropping his pants and turning her to face him.

 She took him in her mouth, sucking hungrily while he continued to smack her ass. He shoved himself deeper into her mouth, and she accepted him eagerly. His hand in her hair guiding her as he wished. Then he pulled her away and spun her around again, sliding in to fuck her.

 “Oh, thank you sir.” she groaned.

 “Such a good girl.” he moaned as they fell together on the floor.

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Blossoming Submission

September 27th, 2012

I don’t think I did justice to the topic of my journey into submission in my long rambling post. Not sure I really did justice to any of the topics I covered, but this one struck me especially. I talked more about my development over the last few years, mixed with a few popular questions of the day, around the cyclical nature of D/s and how a strong woman can be submissive. All those thoughts about control came much later, when I finally got the language for it. But how, exactly, did the submissive grow within me to start with?

Early desires, and my most guilty pleasures, revolve around over the knee spankings. I don’t know why this came about, but it started as early as grade school with an unhealthy(or so I thought) enjoyment of the poem The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. And in middle school blossomed into school girl fantasies that I very much enjoy to this day. With stops along the way to incorporate a Newsie spanking fantasy or two, as well.

This is where my submissive side started. A desire to bend, or be bent by, a person of authority. I was a good girl, I didn’t like causing real trouble, never got a detention, though I came close once, only got grounded once, I don’t even remember ever being spanked as punishment, though I’m sure I was when I was very young. But in these fantasies, I would get into mild trouble, and the person punishing me wouldn’t actually be angry, they’d simply be teaching me a lesson, usually in private. Punishing me for being “bad” or “naughty,” but without the public humiliation of being paddled in front of class, or others. And after I became a bit more sexually mature, I would always thank them for this lesson.

In grade school, we had a hierarchy among my friends. The one at the top of the pyramid could still the rest of us with a look, and usually a smile. I never wanted this power, but I certainly respected it. And fantasied about it. To be quelled and cowed with just a look. It made me shiver, it aroused me. It took me years to understand why. We gave him that control, and he used it, without abusing it, so he got to keep it. He ruled our part of the playground, but he was always kind and always fair. He took care of us, so we followed him. That exchange of power, so simple on the playground, and so much more powerful in a relationship, has always thrilled me. And for those who can express it with just a look, it still makes me shiver and smile.

I comment in the long rambling piece about meeting “strong men,” but what I really meant was strong dominants. Men can be strong without being sexually/kinkily dominant. And I met a woman, as well, who fit this role. I had a few boyfriends that were tops – we played physically, the only power exchange being that I was physically submitting to having things done to me. Usually things like biting, spanking, pinching, pressure points.

Then I met a couple of friends online, who, when they were dating, adopted me in a non-kinky RPG we were all playing. I still call him Daddy, or my Aussie Daddy, to this day, though it never was kink-related. When I lived with him for a (US) summer/(Australian) winter, he preferred Sir in our play. They taught me about what power exchange really felt like. I loved it, though many will say online isn’t the real thing, it was where I was first able to explore it. And explore it I did, in role play, in cybersex chats, in long-distance telephone calls. When I went to Australia, Daddy wasn’t active in the community, but we made the best of our time together. Our kink relationship was mostly physical, but I also enjoyed the bits of D/s we tossed in here and there, as well.

It was a long while before I found that again. Hubby, a sensualist, enjoyed the physical play I asked for, but D/s was not something we managed to figure out on our own. When we found the community, our explorations took different paths, as I found two dominant men that I was drawn to, and he found his own path to kink.

This blog tells the story of my journey since then, for the most part. Exploring different types of D/s and the different ways to submit and serve, learning about taking and giving control. I have tripped and fallen many times. I have had high expectations, and been crushed by reality. I have lost sight of the path and been shown the way back. I have run headlong into the darkness, and survived the fall. I have been taught, guided, chided and chastised. I have been cared for, comforted, crushed and rebuilt. I have been programmed and reprogrammed. I have experienced amazing scenes, awesome service, and incredible love, trust and understanding. Submission has always been inside of me, and these last four years have made it a rich part of my life.

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